Sink or Swim? I Think I'm Sinking
by k-smith1983
Summary: Sam's been in love with Dean for too long and turn to booze, drugs and the streets to fight it.
1. Chapter 1

It had been five years since Sam knew. Five long, torturous years hiding in silence behind brotherly love. Five years fighting his heart, straining his mind, ignoring his body – desperately trying to stay in control. Five years ago, at thirteen years old, Sammy started seeing his idolized older brother in whole new, pretty disturbing light. And every second since, he's been pushing his seemingly innate feelings down to the furthest depths of his soul, more than willing to pretend they didn't exist.

Sam loved his brother more than anything. He loved him more than a brother should. A lot more. The guilt, the self-loathing, the frustration with this unacceptable truth was all too evident in the countless self inflicted scars scattered across his thighs. At first Sam had chalked it up to the raging hormones at thirteen, the nomadic lifestyle at fifteen – the too-little human contact they received growing up as hunters. But soon, he realized this obsession, infatuation, love - whatever you wanted to call it - had to be chalked up to his own personal vendetta to screw up his life. Only his own perversion and twisted head could cause this. There was no other explanation, and he couldn't accept any other _excuse_. Because, let's face it, it's not every day you wake up to find your attracted to your _brother_ in ways no one ever should be.

And as much as Sam tried, there was no denying this, only dealing with it.

"Ah, fuck. Yeah, Sam _harder_." He heard the man under him groan against a chain link fence as he pound ruthlessly into him. The words and rattling of the shaking fence snapped him from his straying thoughts as his enthusiasm began to wane.

_Okay focus Sam_.

It took a sad amount of effort to get any pleasure out of this without pretending the guy was someone else entirely. He shoved himself in deeper, digging his nails into the man's hips for some kind of purchase as the stirring, bunching heat only just began to flicker deep in his belly.

_There it is._

A couple more minutes, no longer fighting the images behind his lids of green eyes, freckles, cocky sarcasm and Sam found that desperate release as the guy in front of him came, clenching Sam impossibly, almost painfully tighter inside. He grit his teeth driving his way through the pitifully weak orgasm and finally pulled out, fixing his pants up around his waist again. Maybe now that he was empty he'd be able to sleep in the same room as his brother for a night. _Maybe._

Sam sighed as he turned away from the guy he'd just ruthlessly fucked and made a b-line for the exit of the grimy back alley.

_God, this is so wrong._

"Sam, where you headed off to so soon?" The guy asked grabbing Sam's forearm before he was out of reach. Shit, he should really know his name.

"Oh, uh, just back to my motel." The man stared back, expectant, "Thanks." Sam muttered hoping he'd given the response the guy was looking for.

"Thanks?" Apparently not. "You don't want my number or anything?"

"Unfortunately I won't be around long enough to use it, man." Sam said awkwardly as the hand dropped from his arm, "But tonight was…" He only just faltered searching for the right words to satisfy, "Really great. I'll see you around." He patted the guy's shoulder and stalked off into the night.

"Fuck." Sam hissed under his breath as he reached the road that cut off the alley and was out of earshot from the other man. "Shit." He spit a little louder into the black, empty air around him, suddenly thankful no one was around. He had to stop doing this, using people, letting himself be used, but at the same time there was no way he could. He depended on these nights, sad and demeaning as they were he couldn't live with Dean and not have them.

And he couldn't live without Dean.

Sam stopped off at a liquor store on the walk back to the motel deciding quickly sobriety would get him nowhere in terms of sleep tonight. And he just wanted to sleep. He arrived in the last five minutes before close and picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels with the fake ID that'd gotten him into the bar earlier. Unscrewing the top off before he even got out of the store, Sam had half the bottle down by the time he finally made it to the door of the motel. He fumbled with the keys for a minute before lodging the right one in the right hole and twisting the knob to stumble through the doorway.

"Oh, shit." The words fell from Sam's mouth before he had time to register exactly what he was seeing happening on their motel bed. Then the bile rose up in his chest, pricking at his throat as he took in and _processed_ the whole sight. Dean, his beloved brother, was balls deep in another guy clawing at his back as he thrust-

_Oh shit._

Here was the contents of his stomach, pushing its way up and out to make its début. Dean was so caught up in his moans and – _fuck he couldn't even _think_ it_ – he didn't realize Sam had even been there till he heard his racing footsteps out of the motel as he heaved up the alcohol he'd only just gotten down.

"Sam?" He faintly heard Dean's voice call from inside the room; the door was still wide open.

"Shit, shit, shit," He heard his brother chanting as sheets rustled and feet stomped around the room, "You have to go, you gotta go. Now. Sorry." Sam coughed and hacked gripping the railing on the sidewalk as he finally finished his session.

He stood in time to see Dean's guest racing out of the room, being shoved out the room really, half-clothed and confused. Dean didn't watch as the guy sped away or turn to answer his call good-bye, but bent to lay a gentle hand on Sam's back.

"Hey buddy, you alright?" Sam shook the hand off violently before standing and backing away from his brother. "Sam," Dean ineptly chuckled gesturing back to the open motel door and shook his head, "I'm really sorry. I thought you'd be out for the night, you've been out every other night this week, I just…" He sighed, defeated, "Are you okay?"

"No, dude it wasn't you, or _that_. Alcohol. You just caught me by surprise." Sam said holding in the rage, the terror, the racking pain that threatened to shatter him as he forced a blank face and answered his brother.

A few awkward seconds passed as Dean shuffled his weight from side to side, Sam boring his stare into the concrete, seeing nothing but his brother with another _man_.

Repulsed. Terrified. Jealous. Sam didn't know what to feel he was still in shock.

"Well, we should probably get back in Sammy. It's cold."

Sam shoved past his brother taking another painful swig from his bottle and stomped inside.

"Hey man, take it easy with that." Dean said following after him, "You're still only eighteen, brother no need to be pounded the bottle just yet."

Sam gave a humorless chuckle and plunked down onto his bed trying not to notice the upturned sheets on the bed over. The effort it took not to explode on Dean was nearing a physical strain as the images seared into his mind and flashed before him like some sick porn stuck on repeat. He didn't go off though, no sir. He held it all in and instead, simply asked through tight lips and a tensed jaw:

"We're you ever gonna tell me Dean?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're gay." Sam nearly yelled, throwing restraint to the wind, beyond frustrated with the situation.

"Sam, you know I'm not gay." His brother replied calmer than expected as he shot that _look _to his brother. The one that so effectively said _drop it Sam_.

Sam shook his head and slid up the bed to rest against the headboard, "Whatever." He muttered, slamming his bottle down on the nightstand.

"_Please_ kid, don't finish that." Dean mumbled quietly as he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. Anger festered deep in Sam's stomach, blazing a fire through his chest - white hot in his veins as he chugged the entire rest of the bottle before throwing it onto Dean's bed, empty.

His pure amazement at not throwing up that whiskey was the last thought he managed before the blackness creeping around his vision swallowed him whole and something hard hit his head.

* * *

_God Damnet, how did I let that happen?_

Dean thought as the heat of the water splashed across his face, trickling down the contours of his chest and back. He never wanted to hurt Sam. That was his little brother, the one thing he treasured in this life. The one thing that mattered. He was supposed to be looking after him, taking care of him, not this. He probably scarred him for life.

The shower ended too quickly before Dean was stepping out, wrapping a towel around his waist and moving out into the room for clothes.

"Ah Sammy, come on." Dean whispered slumping in defeat as he saw his brother falling off the bed passed out, head on the night stand – the empty bottle of whiskey submerged in his tousled sheets. He padded over to his brother pulling him back onto the mattress and laying his head down onto the pillow.

"Gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow, kid." Dean muttered as he inched the covers down under his brother and back up over his lifeless form. All that jostling around and Sam didn't even stir. "God buddy did you have that whole bottle to yourself?" Dean wondered out loud a moment later watching his brothers slack figure. And how much did he have before that? Out of instinct he pressed his fingers to the valley of Sam's neck checking for status of a pulse. The beat was slow and a little faint but obviously there. He rolled Sam onto his side in case he did end up with alcohol poisoning and couldn't wake up to empty his stomach.

Dean couldn't repress his shudder to the thought, waking up to find his brother dead, suffocated in his own vomit. There was no way he was getting to sleep now with the thought still stirring around in his head. Dean gently slapped the side of Sam's face after retrieving a bottle of water from the mini bar. Sam's head followed the movement but fell limp again.

"Hey Sam, man, gotta wake up. Just for a minute. I got some water." He hit his brother again; just a little harder, reluctant to hurt him, even unconscious. Sam winced, any reaction was a good one, but remained asleep. "No, no, no Sam come back bud. Just a little water, then you can go back to sleep." Dean coaxed tapping his brother's cheek again. Sam stayed asleep, too unconscious for Dean's liking. He could feel the slight swell of probably unnecessary panic rise in him as he hit his brother, hard.

Sam moaned and tried to lift a hand to his face, grimacing.

"There you go kiddo, just sit up real quick." Dean wrapped his arm behind Sam's neck and pulled him up as smoothly as he could manage, settling him against the headboard.

"Fu-" Sam huffed a breath lolling his head to the side, "-ean" he moaned. "Wha' the fu-" He puffed out another breath as if the effort to speak was just too much, "you doin' Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, just grabbed his brother's chin firm in his hand, keeping him steady, and put the bottle up to his lips. "Alright, easy brother. Just some water."

"Ah, Damnet Dea-" Sam feebly pushed the bottle from him, "The hell, man?"

"Look, I'm not leavin' you alone until you've had some so suck it up. You'll thank me tomorrow." Dean warned growling in aggravation and as promised, didn't leave until half the bottle was down his brother's throat.

"We done?" Sam asked, eyes still closed, body still limp.

"Yeah, Sam. How do you feel? Did you have anything to drink before that bottle?" Sam nodded in his delirium and began slipping into unconsciousness again. Dean sighed and grabbed a trash can from the corner of the room setting it down next to the bed. He pushed a hand to Sam's forehead feeling for a temperature drop; there was only a little, but any mere sign of a symptom had Dean freaked. It would just be his luck that his brother would get alcohol poisoning _tonight_. He pulled the covers off his own bed and put them on top of Sam tucking them around his still seemingly dead figure.

The worry kept Dean awake another hour or so as he flipped through fuzzy TV stations, waiting for any sign his brother wasn't alright and checking every so often to see if his temperature had dropped any more. Somewhere in the midst of the long passing minutes he dozed and couldn't help it, soon lost in his dreams, oblivious to Sam.

* * *

Unfortunately, the first thing Sam woke to was the sound of violent coughing racking the pain in his head; it took a moment to realize it was his own. And the coughing wasn't coughing, but more choking. He flipped over to his side to clear his airways and he hurled into a trash bin he didn't know was there.

"Ah," He moaned gripping the side of the nightstand hoping it could keep him grounded – the world, he could've sworn, was falling sideways. He tried to look up; someone's voice was calling to him, but could only watch as things tipped one way then the other blurring into a mesh of doubled shapes.

"Sam?" Dean. "_Sam_." He should answer.

"Dean?" He thought he heard himself say.

"Yeah buddy, it's me. It's me, you okay? Can you hear me?" Pause, there was some shuffling, Sam's eyes couldn't stay open, "Shit." Dean whispered taking his hand away from Sam's forehead, "How did I fall asleep? Come on, let's get you into the tub." Tub?

"No, Dean." His voice started coming through clearer now as his head tried to focus and process his surroundings. His vision lessened its haze and sway and unfortunately, the memories of the day before were becoming all too clear in his mind as well as Dean tried to wrap his arm under his shoulders and hobble him over to the bathroom. "No." He repeated trying to make his voice louder, but it came out a rasp whisper as sleep was still tugging at his senses. The effort to fight his brother was simply too much.

Sam felt water rising along his body before he realized what was happening. How had he gotten to the tub so fast? How was it already full?

"Dean wha's goin' on?"

"Just getting you warmed up brother. Try and stay awake for me, huh?" Dean encouraged lightly shaking Sam's bare shoulder. When did he get all but his boxers off? Even in the beyond drunk stupor Sam was currently struggling with, he still could register the heated chill that emanated from the skin his brother touched.

"Lea' me alone." Sam muttered putting real effort into making his voice sound authoritative. It didn't work, still just a horse undertone.

"Yeah okay Sammy I will but only once your stupid ass is sobered up a little."

"'M fine. Jus' cold." And with that everything went black again.

Sam slid down the side of the tub as his eyes fell closed again and was submerged under water before Dean ever realized his brother had passed out again. He ripped him above the surface with a fresh start of panic. Sam didn't stir, didn't even twitch.

"Sam? Sammy! Come on you stupid-" Dean didn't bother finishing his sentence too busy listening for his brother to breath. He felt it, the slightest puff of air and slow drag back in. He didn't suck in any water, but then as he kept listening it took another ten belated seconds before Sam inhaled again. He pulled Sam out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his pliant form and carried them both out to the car.

It took ten minutes to get to the hospital. Ten long agonizing minutes trying to wake Sam up, to get any reassuring reaction from him. But Sam was out; the alcohol had taken its time digesting its way through his system and now its full effects were killing his brother. Literally. He swore he'd never take another sip of it in his life if only his brother ended up okay.

"I need some help." Dean called out carrying his brother through the emergency doors of the hospital; Sam stirred at the noise of his brother's voice. The nurse behind the counter stepped out, concern all over her face, "Pretty sure he's got alcohol poisoning." He said to the woman who ushered him over to a gurney.

"What's his name?"

"Sam." The word fell from his lips soft and treasured, bearing all the raw fear that devoured him as the reality of the situation sunk in.

"How long has he been unconscious?" The woman asked. Sam's eyes just barely fluttered open, and Dean's heart jumped.

"Uh, about ten minutes? Hey buddy, can you hear me?"

"Dean? _Dean_." The befuddled but still clear panic was too obvious on his brother's face.

"You're gonna be okay Sam. Don't worry, it's gonna be alright."

"Relax, son." The doctor who had arrived soothed as he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. His eyes flickered over to the man with distrust and confusion as they wheeled his little brother away through automatic glass doors. They slid shut with such finality Dean suddenly felt the urge to shatter them.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Dean asked as soon as his brother was completely out of sight.

"He's in good hands." The nurse said retrieving paper work from the other side of the counter and handing it over, "Fill these out and take a seat. The doctor will come speak with you as soon as he's finished with your…?"

"Brother. He's my brother." The nurse nodded and turned away as Dean, in his haze, somehow made it to sit.

_He's in good hands? Did people know the meaning of reassurance? We're they capable of saying something else in hospitals? Something other than good fuckin' hands?_

Dean's thoughts raged on as he scribbled away their fake insurance, making sure he used Sam's fake ID to fill out all the information regarding him and his age. They definitely didn't need any jail time for underage drinking now that Sam was eighteen and actually liable for it.

An hour and a half after the paper work was done a young, rather short man in an overly long doctor's coat finally approached Dean with some information. The older brother ignored everything besides what they did to Sam and whether or not he could go see him yet.

"…We pumped you're brother's stomach…he's resting now…he's awake. You can go see him." Ah, there it was. Without another word Dean was escorted to Sam's room, his brother's rising and falling chest being the only thing he could see. Sam's head faced away from the door.

"Sam?" Dean entered the room slowly making sure not to wake his brother if he was asleep. The head rolled over, bright hazel eyes staring back at him.

"You fuckin' suck." Dean laughed too relieved to hear his brother talking without a slur again to care about the words. "That was hell." Sam continued as Dean took a seat on the bed.

"Sorry kid, you were awake?"

"Yeah, you don't gotta be out for that." Sam paused and coughed wincing, "but it sure as hell helps."

Dean gave another weak chuckle, "Well serves your dumb, light-weight ass right."

"I'm not a light-weight."

"Well then you're a dumb ass."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious Sam." Dean said, his voice taking on a new, somber tone, "You're not a kid anymore; I didn't think I needed to watch you like one but after this?" Dean shook his head, "How am I supposed to trust you now?"

"I never asked you to trust me. I don't really care if you do. And I woulda been fine if you'd just left me alone."

_You're kidding me._

"Sam, are you listening to yourself?" Dean's voice escalated, "You could've died if I'd left you alone. What's wrong with you? Why'd you finish the bottle anyway?" It kept escalating, "Cause I told you not to?"

"I was thirsty." Sam said simply turning away from his brother again.

"Fuck you." Dean spit, "You scared the shit outta me, man and this is what I get?"

Sam just shrugged. How had this conversation turned so quickly?

_What the hell was his problem? Seriously what the fuck?_

"Look, brother I don't know what the hell's gotten in to you, but obviously you don't want me here. So, since I've been takin' care of your ass all night, I'm gonna go take a shower and get some sleep. Call me when they let you go." And Dean left, with one last confused and baffled look, disappearing from the doorway.

* * *

It was seven hours that they kept Sam, seven extra long hours drawn out with the guilt of snapping off at Dean. Was it really necessary keeping him? He just wanted to get the hell out of there – the nerve, really, after shoving a tube through his nose and down to his stomach, heaving him dry. What ass holes.

Okay, so maybe Sam's angry thoughts weren't directly related to the hospital, but it wasn't helping he was stuck here.

"How're you feeling Sam?"

"I'm fine. Can I go now?" Sam whined a little unsuccessfully as his throat was raw from the tubes as the nurse walked in, checking his IV and vitals.

"You've been asking that the past four hours, you were very sick Sam. You need to take that seriously; and we need to make sure you're going to be okay before we let you go."

"I'm gonna be fine. Pinky promise." Sam said gruffly eyes intent on the TV above him, "Now can I?" The nurse stopped in front of him grabbing his attention; Sam's eyes flitted down to her.

"I'll go get your doctor. We'll see what he says."

Twenty minutes later Sam was free and not calling Dean for a ride.


	2. Chapter 2

"Uh, hi, my brother was admitted last night. I'm supposed to come get him when he's released…Yeah, Sam Styles…What?...What do you mean he's already been released? He's gone?...Well, where'd he go?...What do you mean you don't know?...He's an adult? He's not an adult he's just a kid!...He just left? He's aloud to do that?...Yeah, yeah okay thanks." Click.

_You've got to be kidding._

"What the hell did you do Sam?" Dean muttered before snatching his keys and jacket, fleeing to the car.

_I can't believe he'd do this. God, what did __I__ do that was so terrible? The little shit, how could he run away? Or act like such a bitch earlier? Or finish that damn bottle? _

Dean drove all day searching for his little brother, eyes scanning and trailing any shaggy, brown-haired kid on the street he could spot. None of them were Sam.

_Jesus Christ he's out there alone, no car, no money, just out of the hospital._

"Damnet." Dean yelled, the sound echoing in the confines of his '67 Impala. Night had long since fallen, it was nearing one o'clock in the morning and Sam was gone. They weren't in any big town and Dean had been down every road the town had. His brother was nowhere.

* * *

_Shit its cold in here._

Sam had hoped the first truck that'd stopped for him after hitting the highway, and the driver, for reasons he couldn't fathom, kept the windows down as they sped down the mostly deserted road. Running from town hadn't felt half as good or relieving as he thought it would. A shock of guilt rode through him as he imagined his panicked brother searching every street for his ungrateful ass.

"So how far you goin' kid?" The driver asked ripping Sam from his thoughts.

"Doesn't matter."

"Hm, one of those guys eh?" The man chuckled deep and throaty, like gravel, "Drifter. Know the life."

_Ha, yeah I'm sure._

"Left my family when I was twelve, been on the road ever since…" The driver's voice faded off as he told his life story and Sam zoned him out, watching the dying shrubs pass in a blur of yellow alongside the road.

_What're you doing, Sam?_

His ebbing thoughts began sneaking into his head again, it'd been hours since the last of them had faded – around the same time the truck had pulled over to take him, but now they were back eating away at him again, more prominent and guilt-ridden than ever.

_How could you do that to him?_

_Shut up._

_No. You're a selfish, snotty bitch doing what your doing. Especially like this. No good bye, no explanation. Just gone._

_I know, okay? I know. It's all true. _

_Damn right it is. _

_I know._

_Then why are you doing it?_

'_Cause I can't take it anymore! Okay? I can't handle it._

His conflicting thoughts faded away to a pathetic, defeated whimper as he hung his head low, bumping it with the cold, clammy window and tried to find sleep, searching for a release.

Four hours later, the sun was just barely coming up and Sam woke to the jarring stop and squeal of the truck parking. His head snapped up to take in his surroundings, hunter's instinct on edge as he looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Yakima, Washington. And this is as far as I can take ya, kid." The man slapped his shoulder, Sam nodded and pushed the door open not bothering to question it. Sometimes time was just up, and that was fine with Sam. He needed to stretch his legs anyway. "Hope you find what you're looking for boy."

"I'm not lookin' for anything, sir." Sam turned back around to face the driver through the open door, "Thanks." He swung it shut and watched as dust picked up in the truck's wake.

Sam began wandering aimlessly from the gas station he was dropped at, trying to find the highway in this dinky town. God he missed his brother.

_Stop Sam. _

He blew out a long breath feeling the dull ache of water depravation pull through his bones. He should get supplies soon, being on the road completely unarmed and without water wasn't a good idea. He might've felt hungry too as it'd been at least a day since he'd eaten, but any appetite was chased away with the thought of this situation, especially the brother-less aspect of it.

_Dean._

* * *

TWO WEEKS LATER

Dean wasn't doing so well. To say he was taking this hard was an understatement of the century, he might as well have gone out of his mind with worry. Every search engine to track Sam was up on his laptop – the laptop his brother had left, the one he could too easily picture him crouched behind, researching their latest hunt.

Dean hadn't even thought about a hunt since Sam had left.

_God he could be dead._

He had barely stopped driving but to connect to the internet and check the searches.

_He could be dead and I'd never know._

He was worn, exhausted, ragged – hadn't shaved, barely showered in over a week.

_If he's not dead I'm gonna kill him._

New York was insanely cold. Sam probably should've tried to end up somewhere a little warmer seeing how it was November, but New York was where he landed and the streets were freezing. He had only arrived a few days ago, but what he'd seen so far he'd liked. The city was vast and exciting and if he could manage it, he thought he might stay. It was nothing like the towns he was used to, old or small, and that was exactly how he wanted it. The fewer ties to his past the better. It just hurt too much.

_That's an understatement._

His body wracked with the chilled wind that rushed past him.

_Ah, yes._

His mind praised as he found an alley protected from the wind and took a swift turn into it, instantly feeling relief that the stagnant air instilled. He slid down the grey brick wall and onto the worn pavement wrapping his arms around his knees. Sam still couldn't help the shudders that shook him the next half hour as his body worked to warm him up and his brain fought to shut out the pain.

_Dean._

His eyes turned to fire, blazing with heat and the sting of tears.

_Oh, god. Dean._

"Hey pretty boy!"

Sam's head snapped up to see a couple boys approaching him. He didn't make any attempt to wipe at his cheeks as the group came clearer into view. They weren't boys, but men. Sam didn't answer.

"Oh, no. Little bugger's cryin'!" The gang erupted in laughter, "Baby boy, streets got ya down?" One of them asked, a thick British accent shaping his words. Despite the obvious intentions they seemed to have, Sam liked the sound of it. "Don't like talkin' much do ya boy?" Sam finally met his gaze again, unable to keep the boredom out of his eyes.

"Get up." Another of them demanded, Jersey accent. He kind of liked that one too, but he was going to enjoy putting these ass holes in their place, or getting his ass kicked trying.

Sam's eyes zeroed in on the hand firm around his bicep before flicking his stare up to the guy it was attached to.

"You've got about one second to move that." They laughed, Sam crooked a smile in return. It didn't matter how this turned out, a fight or an ass beating either would be exactly what he needed.

Sam grabbed his forearm twisting it around his back and had the guy in a headlock before any of the others knew what'd happened.

"Get the fuck back or I crush his wind pipe." Sam growled putting a little more pressure on the hold to add emphasis. The other three took a miniature step back before glancing at each other, trying to be discrete, and nodded. A second later they rushed him.

Sam threw the guy in his arms at the one in the middle putting them both on the floor for a minute while he dealt with the other two. A swift fist to the jaw and ribs had one stunned but the other tackled him from behind throwing them both to the ground. The air left Sam's lungs in a grunt.

"Oh you little-" One of the guys he'd thrown to the ground had gotten up and now was advancing, fury in his eyes.

_Here it comes._

"I was gonna go easy," Kick to the stomach, "But now you've pissed me off." It was the British guy Sam noticed as another hard-as-he-could-kick blow landed on his sternum. This time when the air escaped it didn't come back for a while, at least another two kicks.

Suddenly Sam was on his feet, arms secured behind his back. He looked up and smiled just before a fist came down on his nose with a crunch. Yeah, this was better than an ass kicking. He needed an ass beating: the punishment he only felt he deserved. It was exactly what he needed, well at least it would be once they were done, and he was already egging it on.

He felt a couple ribs crack as a foot landed on his stomach and he slammed up against the wall behind him. Sam slid to the right until he was on his side up against the bricks, just where they wanted him he guessed because as soon as he was down two of them were kicking his legs, aiming for his balls a few times for good measure. The British guy was still working on his stomach, getting those couple ribs with every ruthless blow. He didn't know what the other was up to, couldn't have been anything good though.

Suddenly something came down on his shin, something harder than a shoe, a lot harder.

"Fuck!" Sam sputtered out as he felt the pain shiver up through his leg.

"Ah, yeah think the lil' babe likes that, Brent!" They busted out cackling again.

"Give it a go, chap." The guy Brent said as he apparently passed on the weapon. Sam's eyes were crammed shut, still struggling with breathing through the pain in his leg when whatever they had came down on his shoulder.

Sam thought the scream that emanated from deep in his throat could've been heard by the whole city as he listened through the screeching noise to something pop in his joint.

"Shit." He hissed through his grinding teeth. Three more clocks to the face and Sam was out.

_Dean._

Was his last thought.


	3. Chapter 3

_What the hell?_

Sam could've sworn he'd been in an alley last he remembered, it felt like years ago but still, he should wake up in the same place he passed-

_Oh, fuck._

Any train of thought was lost as the searing pain that'd been hiding in Sam's unconsciousness slowly slithered its way out to paralyze him. Jesus Christ what the fuck was stabbing his leg? And his shoulder? And his...hip?

"Oh, oh my god. He's waking up." Who was that? "Ah, h-he looks like he's in pain. Guys?" Whoever it was they were clearly freaking out, "Uh, guys…I can't do this while he's awake. Ithinkimgonnabesick."

"Anna, get out of here!" Another voice said with a disbelieving chuckle as something shuffled across the floor. "Yeah, guys looks like he's comin' to." There was murmuring in the background.

"Where am I?" Sam croaked trying to sit up and failing miserably as the world started gyrating through blurred eyes. "Who are you? _Fuck_." Sam spit huffing through aches and stings that grew with every minute of awareness.

"Take it easy, man. We found you in the alley, brought you home with us. You're safe, it's okay." Sam felt his sweatshirt hike up a bit as the voice paused, "Looks like X got ya pretty good." Sam would've questioned it; really he wanted to because none of that made much sense, but something tugged and pierced in his hip, stealing the words right out of his mouth.

"What's going on?" he asked through his delirium, eyes still closed, "What're you doing?" Finally Sam gathered the strength to glance down to the source of pain, watching as the kid hovering over him and pulled a curved needle through his skin.

"Sorry, never been that good at stitching." Sam sucked in a couple breaths getting a better look at the guy and this place. All he could see was it was dark – the fire in the corner didn't shed much light around – and a little cold, but sheltered.

"Who are you, again?"

"Right, um, Collin. And we're in the subway by the way, I know you asked earlier." Yeah, home, right? This didn't look like a subway station, or a home. More like a cave.

"Okay." The word dragged, expressing Sam's suspicion. "Um, do you know how to pop a shoulder back in place?" Sam grunted bringing his hand up to the still dislocated joint.

"You're shoulders messed up? Damn, wish we could've done that while you were out, I didn't catch it. Busy with the hip," Sam nodded and tried to smile in reassurance secretly wishing he'd skip the explanation and get it over with. It hurt like hell. "Hey Neon, get over here." A short, wiry kid literally skipped over to them, jittery and shaking. "Shoulder." Collin gestured to the arm Sam clutched just as he finished the last stitch in his hip, tying it off. Sam realized then he still didn't know where the cut had come from.

"Sucks." Neon nodded, "Ready when you are. Let's get him up."

Collin grabbed Sam's good arm and hoisted him up; Neon stepped behind him quickly making sure he didn't topple over on his bum leg.

"Whoa, wait." Collin stopped the boy behind Sam as his hands came down on the shoulder, "Anna's outta here right?"

Neon laughed, "Hell yeah dude. She booked as soon as he was up."

"'Kay good. Didn't need another one to worry about." Collin shook his head with a snort.

_I'm right here._

"Go 'head." Collin nodded to Neon.

"Ready?" The voice asked behind him, Sam nodded.

"Do it." A split second later and white flashed behind his eyes, pain struck him like lightning, his knees buckled – well the knee he was putting any pressure on, at least – and he screamed; he couldn't help it. It only lasted a second, just as the shoulder got back in place, but still, it was deafening and echoed through the nearly enclosed room.

"Oh," Collin caught Sam under his good arm with a wheeze; Neon had his hands on his waist trying to support his weight. Together, they kept all six feet two inches of Sam off the ground. Miracle. Couple seconds later and Sam regained his balance, getting his feet back under him, feebly pushing the hands away.

"Thanks." He muttered wondering how much longer he could stand on one leg, his body thrumming with blinding pain, his ribs throbbing, the stitches pulling –

_Whoa, what the hell? _

Sam got a chance to have a better look at the cut pulling his sweatshirt up a little as he saw; the cut was crisscrossed into an 'X'. They carved an 'X' into his hip.

"What the fuck is that." Sam seethed lowering himself back down onto the ground as discretely and smoothly as possible. Neon stepped back around into Sam's view looking to see what he was talking about.

"Oh, shit. This was X?" Neon brought a fist over his open mouth, taking a step back, chuckling. Sam shot him an incensed glare and he retreated back to the fire, still gaping.

"What's X?" He asked, the anger ebbing.

"The gang that gave you the beating of a lifetime."

"I've had worse." Sam muttered quietly enough to assume Collin wouldn't hear, not really registering what he'd said until he responded.

"Well that blows. Guess you've been on the streets a while then?" Collin moved down to look at his leg; Sam noticed now the caked blood gluing the material to the wound.

"No. Been on the road, but never the streets." Funny what a distinction that made. Collin nodded peeling away the pant leg to reveal the blood garbled mess of his leg. Looked like they took a crowbar to it, probably his shoulder too.

"The road, huh? What's that about?" Sam's brow crumpled, why in god's name did he even bring it up – it was still a number one rule, do what you do and shut up about it. Something about the kid made him want to spill his whole fucked up story.

"Nothin' really." Sam winced, and threw his head back over-exaggerating the pain to get Collin off the subject.

"Sorry, man." He apologized; stealing a glimpse at Sam, "Doesn't look like you'll need stitches though." Sam nodded and went back to silence, glad he wasn't pushing the subject of his past. "Never got your name by the way."

"Sam."

"Well, nice to meet you Sam. Sorry about the circumstances." He laughed.

"You too. Thanks again, you didn't have to do this." Collin just shrugged attentive to his work, "You think it's broken?" Sam asked, peering down at his leg.

"No, bruised the bone I'm sure, but not broken. I don't think."

"Good." Sam sighed immensely grateful he wouldn't be hobbling around in some home-made cast, "So looks like you've got quite the set up here." Sam said watching the three other guys by the fire, Collin nodded. His eyes snapped over to movement in the entrance as a silhouetted girl appeared through the light outside.

"Oh, hey, Anna. Worst is over. You can come in."

"I'm really sorry. Really," The girl apparently named Anna rushed over to him, "I was gonna finish but, pain, it makes me" Her nose scrunched up rather charmingly, "well, let's just say I don't do well around it." She looked intensely into Sam's eyes, nervous, like she was worried he wouldn't accept her apology. "I was gonna finish, but then you woke up and-"

"Anna slow down, I don't think he even knows what you're talking about." Collin laid a hand on her shoulder pulling her back a step.

"Right. I'm Anna." She smiled; she had a nice smile. Warm and genuine, "I was stitching you"

"She's the one who taught us all how to do it." Collin gave her a light punch in the shoulder,

"Yeah, but then you woke up and I ran and I just wanted to apologize." Anna finished.

Sam laughed confused, "Its okay, you really don't need to, you were helpin' me out. Thanks." She nodded smiling again.

_God._

He realized why he liked the smile.

_Dean._

_

* * *

_

Dean hadn't cried in years. It'd been taboo in the Winchester family for as long as he could remember: emotion was weakness. But this –_ these_ tears – they were relentless and crushed down on him so brutally he didn't stand a chance fighting back. He'd finally let the levy break – well, shatter, crumble and turn to dust really – after weeks of nonstop, aimless searching and now, he was empty.

Of course, he'd keep looking, hell yeah he'd keep looking – till he died or found Sam, but the hope was gone. Just like his brother. And with that, he needed a god damn drink.

"Hey, baby." The manager at the random club quietly greeted him, sliding a hand around his back as she plopped down into the stool next to him.

"Hey." Dean returned dully taking a swig from his double whiskey, "Slow night." He said looking around.

"Mm." She hummed in agreement, alcohol on her breath "More time to focus on individual customers." She whispered huskily into his ear, leering as she drew back. Dean couldn't help but chuckle at her forwardness and lack of a descent pick up line but she wasn't bad to look at. He waited for the trickling fire in his belly to ignite and give him the go to reciprocate her obvious flirting. But something wasn't right – wasn't clicking. Dean just wasn't into it.

"I can see that." He downed the rest of his chaser beer as he finished the whiskey letting the warm buzz settle.

She hummed again in agreement, moving her hand to his upper thigh with a gentle squeeze. Dean wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the much deprived human touch but he could've sworn a match lit in his belly and he thought he felt something click.

An hour later, Dean was in the upstairs apartment at the club jerking down the manager's pants to reveal a lacy pink thong. He should really start getting, or rather remembering, the names of the people he was about to fuck.

"Condom?" She breathed heavily into his mouth tugging his shirt up over his head with a moan of appreciation as her hands roamed over valleys and mountains of taut golden skin. They moved to his pant's buckle.

"Mhm." He rumbled, voice rough with what he tried to convince himself was lust.

Dean ripped it out of his back pocket and tore it open as the jeans fell to the ground around his ankles. Ready to slide it on over his half hard cock, desperate for anything to dull the ache, he hesitated. Bile rose up in his throat.

_Fuck._

"Fuck." Dean voiced his thoughts in a hiss and tugged his pants up backing away, "I'm sorry." He muttered, not the slightest bit fazed by the woman's bare torso staring him in the face. "I have to go." He said almost shocked at the revelation and nearly falling as he sprinted frantically out the door. Seconds later he was back on the road, time moving in a fuzzy, meaningless blur just like the pavement under his tires and the trees outside of his window. Maybe this time he'd never stop driving.

In his car the tears, miserably enough, returned.

"God Sammy," He whispered to no one, "I miss you."


	4. Chapter 4

"So, now that you're up and walking again, you should really learn how to fight." Collin began as he and Sam prepared to start a fire, waiting for the others to wake up. It had been a couple weeks since the beating and Sam had been hanging around the cave for most of it, appeasing these people who took him in. He, surprisingly enough, found himself settling in.

"I know how to fight." Sam laughed lighting a match to the damp newspapers.

"Yeah, if anything's telling me not to trust that answer, it's the picture of you laying half dead in that alley." Collin shot back, "We all train together okay, it's a survival precaution thing, so just…humor me."

Sam nodded, "Alright." It was a smart idea, but it reminded him a little much of a life he wanted to forget. "Sounds good."

Collin nodded back with a timid smile, glancing over at him as the fire began licking into the air, "Well, now that you're scrawny ass doesn't need help getting' around," Collin hit him playfully on his good shoulder, "I'm gonna make my rounds. We need some food around here." Collin walked over to his bed rummaging around in his blankets, "'M starving." He mumbled and pulled out a little plastic bag.

"You're rounds?" Sam pulled his gaze away from the fire, trying to make out what was in the bag, squinting. A syringe and a blur of white. Heroin, coke? Collin stuffed it in his back pocket, trying to hide it from Sam. "Wait, you mean…?" Suddenly it snapped into place.

"I'll see you tonight." Collin quickly mumbled slipping through the crumbling hole in the wall. This place was falling apart, being the forgotten construction site in an abandoned subway it was.

"Collin, wait. You don't have to do that." He said jumping up from the fire, "…sell yourself out there?" Sam muttered quietly as to not wake anyone, "I know some things, money tricks. And I've got a diploma. I can get a job. You don't have to do this." Sam repeated.

"Job sounds good Sam. You should start looking." He said with a small grin, "This is my job; I've got responsibilities, man. We all do our part to keep each other alive. It's just the way things work here. I'll see you."

Sam had grown closer to Collin over the past few weeks than he'd gotten to anyone, besides his brother, and to see him leave, knowing what he'd be doing out there...it made him sick.

"Hey Sam," A voice behind him croaked, Anna.

"Morning. How are you?" He heard a Zippo snap open and light as Anna came around to the sit next to him. She lit a joint, turning the air around them into thick fog almost immediately.

"I'll be great in a second." She said around the smoke in her lungs, offering Sam the blunt.

"No, thanks." He declined. She blew out a short laugh of smoke and took another drag.

"Stick around and that'll change soon enough." She smiled sadly as Sam looked into the fire, wondering if she'd end up right. He supposed it wouldn't really matter in the end.

"Maybe. I'm goin' out to look for a job."

"A job?" She sniggered again, "Good luck. Especially lookin' like that."

"Shut up." Sam smiled getting to his feet, she hummed in appreciation.

"Maybe if you do that," She said gesturing to the grin, "they won't notice the blood stained clothes." Sam shook his head still chuckling as he left. She was right though, he'd probably need another change of clothes before he was getting anywhere.

Two hours later, Sam's sticky fingers had snatched a new button-up shirt, jeans, boxers and a set of shoes. All things considered he thought he'd done pretty well and changed in a public restroom beginning his search. He felt so much more at ease blending in on the bustling sidewalk and filled out applications from six different stores before his stomach was begging him to stop for food and his leg was screaming at him to stop walking. He headed back to the cave.

"Collin back yet?" Sam found himself asking as soon as he got in, surprised at the concern coloring his tone. He looked around noticing only Gary, one of the other two boys of the group, was still here. "Where is everybody?"

"You just missed Collin. He dropped off some cash and went back out. I'm on the food, about to go out and pick up dinner for everyone. The rest left different times in the day. Business is just starting to pick up." He glanced at the busted watch around his wrist; Sam thought it'd be around six or seven, "They won't be back for a while." Sam's stomach rolled thinking of his friends out there getting fucked by random perverts so they could eat tonight. Half of him thought he should be out there helping, the other half wanted to find them all and bring them back, lock them up, and keep them safe any way he could.

* * *

"Bobby?" Dean's voice sounded in the darkness, quiet and broken.

"Dean's that you? What're you doin' boy, you don't sound good."

"I lost Sam, Bobby." The words were nearly impossible to say, "I…I-I'm just out of options." Dean took in a quaky breath trying to hold it together, "I don't know where to look anymore."

"Hold on a minute, whadya mean you lost Sam?"

"He took off. It's a long story, look I'm out of money and almost outta gas so I was wonderin'-"

"God damnet, Sam." Bobby interrupted murmuring, "Yeah kid, head on over. You'll have the house to yourself for a few days, I'm in Charleston dealin' with a Rugaru…I think. I'll see ya soon as I'm done."

"Thanks Bobby. Owe ya one." Dean's gravel voice rumbled through the eerily silent car and he snapped the phone shut with more force then necessary, irritated with the quiet that settled. He should be hearing Sam shifting around in the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable, or his voice complaining about the size of the damn car, the length of the damn drive, the noise of the damn music; he shouldn't be hearing the deafening silence shattering the car. He should be hearing his brother.

Sam kept himself awake until the last person staggered inside; it was four in the morning and Collin stumbled in through the entry.

"Jesus, man, are you okay?" Sam jumped up catching him before he lost his footing and eased him to the ground.

"'M fine, Sam. Just…high. Really high." His words had a frightening drawl to them as he leaned his head back against the rocky surface of the wall, "Why are you still up?"

"Waitin' for you dumb ass. Sure you're okay?" Collin looked up at Sam, something like awe in his eyes.

"You waited for me?"

"Yeah, man. 'Course I did."

Collin sighed still looking intently up at Sam hovering over him, "You're sort of amazing, Sam." He whispered a long minute later, a red flush creeping into his cheeks. Sam felt his stomach roll and flutter; no one had ever called him that. And never with that look in their eyes.

"You're sorta high out of your mind," Sam laughed but brought his hand to Collin's face tentatively, rubbing a thumb high across his cheek bone. "Let's get you to bed." Sam watched Collin bring a hand to his cheek as he knelt down and heaved him up from under his arms, pulling him along as silently as he could to his bed. "How do you feel?" Sam asked covering his friend up with the tattered blankets.

"Numb. Perfect." Collin purred, the words sounding like a question, "Best feeling in the world." Sam bowed his head, a strange mix of emotions stirring through him. He saw the zip-lock bag hanging out of Collins pocket, dangling before it slipped out to land beside him.

"Numb doesn't sound too bad right about now." Sam whispered brokenly thinking Collin was asleep as he began to stand. A crackling in the sheets made him turn and he saw Collin lift the plastic bag in his hand as he tried to sit up, resting his side against the wall to stay upright. He locked his heavy gaze with Sam. A silently offering.

And then Dean was in his head, memories, piercing and agonizing, flashing through his mind – ricocheting pain down his limbs in a judder – begging him to do this. God, the ache was unbearable, suddenly like trying to breath under water. Each slow drag in another heartbreaking reminder he was still alive, and still trying to deal with these full pieces of himself chipping away, withering. He wasn't a whole person without his brother, and at the same time he couldn't handle who he was _with_ him.

_There's no fixing this._

Sam thought as a new wave of desperation crashed over him showing no mercy, ripping him apart at the seams.

_But maybe I could bury it. Feel something else, even if just for a minute._

It quickly became obvious this was what he needed, the only option to surviving at this point.

It was time to sink or swim. And he'd been paddling for years, his drive waning, his fight fading -a stray anchor, abandoned and sinking.

Maybe this was his life boat, and he could just float for while.

Sam nodded, his tears invisible in the dark.

Collin pulled the syringe out, the metal spoon, the white powder, the lighter, the rubber strap; Sam didn't see any of it. The only thing he could see was in his head and it was Dean. Too clear, so beautiful, and all together out of reach in every way.

"You sure you want to do this? It'll get you hooked quick. Trust me when I say there's no turning back, Sam."

"Please." Was his insufferable plea, "I can't feel this anymore." Collin didn't know what he wanted to stop feeling, but the unalloyed grave desperation in Sam's voice had him tying the rubber around his bicep and filling the syringe with melted liquid in the spoon.

Collin pulled Sam closer and looked into his eyes, giving one last chance to stop him.

"Do it." Sam's voice cracked in the whisper that fell from his lips, breaking the silent night. Collin raised his hand to Sam's face, brushing at the single tear that dripped to his cheek.

"I'll take care of you." Collin took Sam's hand and flipped it over, facing the inside of his elbow up, brushing fingers over the rising veins. "Beautiful." He whispered so low Sam almost didn't hear and lined the needle up with the crook of his arm, pushing it in. Fire burned through Sam's arm, welcomed and wanted. He drank it down as the drug spread, focused on the separation of pain and pleasure in every cell of his body, organized into neat arrangements of numb and magnified.

Collin pulled the syringe out and capped it, putting everything away and tugged Sam down next to him, curling him up in his arms.

There weren't words to describe the euphoria rushing through him, god it was incredible to feel something other than the empty aching holes he was so hideously used to. Sam moaned low in his throat, the only thank you he could manage.

He could _finally_ breathe, like he'd broken the suffocating surface and pulled in the first real breath of his life. Now he could float.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was sinking again. Worse than sinking, Sam was a fucking dead weight in the water plunging into darkness. He wanted more. The aching holes were back, the nightmares, the emptiness, and he really wanted more. It had only been twenty four hours since his first and last hit and he was already itching for another.

"Sam," Neon said, his voice startling Sam out of his dangerously fixated thoughts, "You doin' okay bro?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam stuttered turning back to the fire, trying to hide his nervous twitching "Yeah I'm fine." He shrugged aiming for nonchalant.

"Okay." Neon's voice came out a gradual incline, not attempting to hide his suspicion, "I'm goin' out. Get dinner? I'd do it since everyone else is out, but I've got a client." It was sick how professional that sounded, "I'll try to be back by midnight and let the others know you're getting' food."

"You know which streets they're working tonight?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, we always know. Safety measures."

"You know where Collin is?"

Neon's brow shot up as he blew out a breath, "Court St. behind that old abandoned warehouse I'm pretty sure. It's close to where we first picked you up."

"Thanks, Neon." Sam said as he got to his feet, picking up the cash for dinner beside him. He was on his way out when Neon's hand came down on his chest, stopping him.

"Yeah." Neon said almost flush against Sam's side, "My advice? Don't go unless you wanna join the business." He shot his eye brows up to emphasize his point. Sam picked the hand up off his chest.

"I'm just getting dinner."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He shook his head, "See ya tonight." Sam began his way out again, "And Sam? Be careful."

"Yeah."

True to his word Sam went out to the nearest and cheapest grocery store he could find and picked up seven different sandwiches and two bottles of diet coke before returning to the cave. He sat there by the empty pit wondering if he should start a fire and wait for the others or go find Collin.

It didn't take long before the later sounded too appealing, remembering the night before – the burning needle, the euphoric rush, the perfect high. He really wanted to find Collin.

* * *

Dean had been at Bobby's for two days now, receiving a call each morning and night to make sure he was still alive. Of course, he was in every literal sense of the word, but the life in him had long since died and despite Dean's efforts, that fact was anything but subtle to the concerned old man.

"Dean you've gotta stop this." Bobby's voice sounded on the phone, loud and grating in Dean's ear.

"I'm fine Bobby okay? What more do you want me to say."

"The truth maybe ya idiot! You don't think I see through that bull shit, tough guy routine by now? I know this is hard boy but you can't give up. Sam'll come home when he's good and ready and that's all we can ask for."

"Give up?" Dean's voice grew louder when he finally answered – the first sign of life there Bobby had heard, "Excepting Sam will 'come home when he's ready' is giving up Bobby. Trust me, that's exactly what I _won't_ do."

"I'm talking about givin' up on life kid, not you're brother." Bobby clarified wearily, "And even if you are all hell bent on gettin' Sam back and ignorin' my advice, what exactly do you think you're gonna do to find him? We both know if Sam don't wanna be found, he aint gonna be found."

Silence.

"Dean?"

More silence. Static blew through the other end as Bobby sighed.

"I know his phone's disconnected, but it doesn't mean he forgot your number. The most you can do now is keep it and hope he calls soon." The reassurance did little for Dean and the silence persisted, "He knows how to reach me too, Dean don't forget." Bobby tried again, "He'll come back to us."

There was a click on Dean's end and then dial tone.

* * *

The sun had fallen about an hour ago, a clear night sky taking its place. Sam consciously felt for the knife tucked away in his right pant leg as he walked down the narrow streets weaving his way toward Court. He noticed after only a few minutes how right Neon had been. This place was anything but discrete – the dark alleys filled with moans and grunts and whether it was street fights or sex he really couldn't tell as he searched.

_Yes._

There it was: Court, the widest bisecting street in the collection of alleys. He took a left down into the lane, feeling the prickling sensation at the back of his neck that had his hunter instincts on edge.

_Collin. Collin. Collin. _

Sam mentally chanted scanning the different drugged up faces he passed, seeking out his friend.

"Collin." Sam acknowledged finally spotting the face he recognized.

"Hey baby, how-" Sam stepped closer into the beam of light shining directly above his friend, "Sam?" Collin started not at all expecting _that_ face to emerge from the shadows. He shoved off the wall and grabbed Sam's elbow dragging them both off to a back dumpster alley, the only empty one they could find. Collin shoved Sam up against the chain link fence that blocked off the pavement from another abandoned lot.

"What the hell are you doing here Sam?"

"Get offa me." Sam growled pushing Collin's hands away in one sharp swing of his arms; Collin took a step back not expecting the strength he felt in his arms. "I can take care of myself, alright? I needed to talk to you."

"Now? I would've been home in a couple hours, man."

"Look, I need you to get me some of that shit from whoever you buy from. I can get you the money by the time your back tonight, I just – I needed you to do this for me before you got back."

"Are you kidding me Sam?" Sam's expression didn't faze, his resolve didn't falter. He needed the drug, and couldn't find it in himself to care what anyone thought about it. "Christ, okay. I'll try. I'll call him and see what I can do."

"Thank you." Sam sighed inside so filled with relief he could cry.

"But listen Sam, whatever you're runnin' from with this shit, trust me when I say it's just a quick fix – just _temporary._ And it will kill you if you treat it any different."

Sam nodded, "See you tonight. I'll have the money."

"Sam," Collin stopped him again, "Be careful goin' home. Take this-" Collin tried to hand Sam a pocket knife from inside his jacket but the smashing of a glass bottle and echoing of bumptious laughter made him freeze.

"I've got one, thanks." Sam muttered, head still turned away toward the noise.

"…I'm pretty fond uh this spot actually." The voice became clear as it neared, along with the heavy British accent coloring it.

"Is that…?" Sam's question drifted.

"Yeah, I think so." Collin sang taking an unconscious step back as he tensed and subtly shifted his stance, "Sam, go. Hop the fence and run."

Sam bit back a scoff, "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious _go_-"

"Oh, no. What've we got here?" The voice said from the darkness just as it rounded the corner. The gang could see Sam and Collin as they were directly under the only street light in the alley, but where the voices were coming from was just darkness. "Collin, it's good to see ya chap."

"Xavier." Collin returned with a smug smile as the group stepped into the ring of light. Sam shot Collin a quick, but noticeably puzzled glance before returning his attention to the four men before them.

_They know each other?_

Xavier's expression wavered at the sound of his apparent name, but he kept his bemused smile plastered on. His eyes flickered over to Sam.

"Hey I remember you." He said with a lazy step forward; Sam moved ready to grab his knife. Xavier chuckled, turning over his shoulder to his laughing gang, "Can you believe this?" He pointed to Sam turning back around, "He's come back for another round!" Xavier exclaimed throwing his hands out to his sides in utter disbelief.

"Sam, please." Collin attempted one last time, trying to get his new friend _out_ of there any way he could.

"I'll be fine." Sam snarled low under his breath, keeping his eyes on his rival. He was sincerely looking forward to this.

"Here that boys?" Xavier yelled, "He'll be fine."

This time, Sam was in no mood to get his ass kicked, and with Collin he was sure that'd be no problem at all. Xavier cocked his fist so obviously Sam almost had time to laugh before it was soaring toward him. He caught it easily, spun the wrist around forcing Xavier's whole body to twist with it and shoved the bent arm up along his back until he heard the satisfied snap of his shoulder. After the cry died out he dropped the limp form to the ground,

"Doesn't feel too good does it?" He spit before the other three were coming at him. Sam cocked a brow.

_I remember this._

Collin jumped in at the last second tackling the one closest to him from the side, and then wrestled him for a bit on the pavement, trying to gain the upper hand. Sam hit the one on the right still coming at him, putting all his momentum into the blow and actually had a moment to feel surprise at how easily he went down. Sam didn't, however, have a spare second to make sure he was really out before he was ducking from the brass-knuckled fist flying toward him.

_Well, as long were done fighting fair…_

With his crouch, Sam took the opportunity to pull his knife from his boot and stand again, being sure to display its impressive size and length to the man before him. He really didn't feel like flaying some guy for being a dumb ass tonight, so he figured he'd scare him off rather than use it. Thankfully it worked. Sam only had a moment to catch his breath though before he heard a scuffling in the shadows; far enough outside the ring of glaring light that he couldn't make out the figures.

"Collin?" He called running toward the sound. Finally close enough, he saw the last remaining guy straddling his friend, pounding into his face with left and right swings. Sam kicked him in the back of the head with enough rage to cause a serious concussion and the man went toppling over onto Collin. Sam shoved him off with his boot and reached his hand out to Collin, helping him to his feet.

"You good?" Sam asked doing a once over on him, checking his face – a couple gashes, black eye, nothing fatal. But he noticed he was clutching his ribs. "Can you stand all the way up?"

"Yeah dude I'm fine. I'm fine." He tried to laugh propping himself up against the wall behind him, "Guess I don't need to keep pesterin' you about learning to fight." He chuckled again wincing and leaned over protecting his ribs.

"Seriously man somethin' could be broken. Let me have a look." Sam said taking a step closer till he could feel the heat radiating from his friend's body. Sam tentatively reached his hands out for Collin's jacket and when he didn't resist, pushed the sleeves down his arms. He took the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up enough to reveal the ribs Collin had been favoring. Sam took two fingers and pressed them gently to the quickly discoloring skin, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Sam didn't answer, "And how was it so easy for you this time and last time they almost killed you?" Sam cracked a smile.

"I had you this time." Collin scoffed and then flinched; Sam snapped his head up.

"Does that hurt?"

"No, no. I shouldn't laugh." He explained, tilting his head back toward the wall.

"Well, nothing's broken. Just bruised it looks like."

"I'm lucky you were here." Collin said just above his breath as he looked down at Sam who dropped his shirt to meet his gaze. That awe was back in Collin's eyes, making Sam feel a lot little like the most precious thing he'd ever seen, uncomfortably so. He didn't deserve a look like that. From anyone. Especially not Collin.

"Let's get you back home." Sam mumbled taking a step back and watching as the flame faded from Collin's stare.

Fifteen minutes later both boys were standing around a payphone, Collin speaking into the receiver.

"Collin, you don't have to worry about it. We can do this tomorrow." Sam protested before Collin put a finger over his lips returning his attention to his conversation on the phone.

"Yeah? Okay that's awesome. Thanks Rick, savin' my life here. Alright bye." Collin hung up the pay phone. "Sam, don't worry about it. I'm doin' this for me as much as I am you. I could definitely use a hit after all that, and it's the least I can do for saving our asses back there. We're meeting him in fifteen."

Sam couldn't repress the swell of anticipation as he thought about that next shot, as much as he tried he couldn't. He wanted Collin to go home and rest, really he did, but if he was going to be so persistent Sam couldn't keep arguing. He wanted this way too much.

As they waited, something occurred to Sam, something that'd caught his attention from the fight.

"Xavier." Sam said distractedly and turned to Collin, "You knew his name, how did you know his name?"

Collin smiled sadly, "I was eleven when I first started livin' out here. I've been around a while, Sam. You get to know the people of your class after eight years, whether you want to or not." His eyes distanced, watching the past, the same small smile still dancing on his lips. Sam was gone in his sympathetic thoughts when Collin's voice sounded again, making him jump. "Oh, hey here he is." He pushed off from the wall, strutting toward the guy who was nodding toward him.

Half an hour later Sam and Collin were back at the cave with the crackling fire and their friends huddled around finishing dinner, both still half thinking of what Collin had revealed earlier.

"Ah Sam," Anna moaned around a mouthful of food as the boys got inside, "So fuckin' good." She held up her sandwich, "Thanks." Sam grinned stopping only for a moment to acknowledge her, nodding.

"Not a problem." Sam said as Collin caught his arm and pulled him over to the bundle of blankets against the wall. He was ready for both of them to stop thinking of his pitiful past; he wanted Sam to stop looking at him like a lost puppy.

"You hungry?" He asked breathily as he squatted down into the sheets pulling the plastic bag from his pocket.

"No." Sam shot, taking a seat in front of him.

"Good." Collin smiled, pleased. He sighed with appreciation as the powder turned to liquid in the spoon. He sucked it up into the syringe through a tiny cotton ball and pushed out the extra air bubbles. "Ready?" Sam's heart was racing, ready to tear itself right out of his chest.

"Yes." He whispered keeping the desperation out of his voice. Collin wrapped the rubber strap around his bicep and tied it off. "Flex your hand." He ordered, watching as Sam obeyed and the veins in his arms stood up.

He traced a finger down the largest one, eyes lingering on the goose bumps that followed his trail. Soon enough the drug was leafing out from his arm through his body, initiating the rush. Collin was quickly setting himself up for his hit, sterilizing syringe, melting down, sucking up, tying off and injecting.

"Fuck." Collin gurgled slowly falling back onto his bed, face relaxing from a grimace as the pleasure swelled through him. Sam was swaying, still trying to sit up through the overwhelming ecstasy pulsing through his veins. "So fuckin' good." He heard one of them groan. He wasn't sure which had said it, didn't really matter, but they were right. This was incredible.

"C'mere." Collin slurred, eyes still closed as he feebly reached out for Sam, finding purchase on his sleeve. He gently led him down to nestle into his side and opened his eyes, the rush passing and the high settling. "I'm glad you're here." Collin said just above a whisper as Sam looked at him, squinting sleepily. "You're so beautiful, Sam." He brought a hand up to his cheek running the pads of his fingers over Sam's angled features. In this bliss, the lines and creases that showed the stress and heartache of Sam's past melted away. He was smooth and unblemished, an absolute vision. He was a clean slate.

Collin's thumb caught on Sam's bottom lip tugging it down as it slid further, tracing the sharp angles of his chin, and then his jaw. The sensation of fingers on his skin and the pleasure already coursing through him mixed sending a rush of blood to his cock. He felt himself harden against Collin's thigh and his eyes fluttered up to meet his friend's, gauging his reaction. Collin's eyes were intently focused on Sam's when his thigh shifted against him. Sam stifled a moan half aware of the others in the room and looked back up to Collin. There was one moment, just a split second, when Sam no longer saw Collin before him, but instead Dean. For just that moment it was Dean's breath he felt ghosting over his lips and Dean's hands roaming over the hard planes of his stomach. It was Dean's mouth that came crashing down on his own and_ his_ hands that reached for the belt buckle on his pants.

Sam didn't fight the fantasy and kept his eyes firmly shut, watching heart-stopping, green eyes bore into him and feeling wide, strong hands slide down past his now unbuckled pants. Long fingers teased him, rubbing along his groin, but careful not to come in contact with his rigid, aching cock. A low, guttural moan escaped through his parted lips as he tilted his head back, letting Dean's mouth explore down his neck. Teeth nipped at his skin and lips sucked on his flesh till dark bruises were left in the wake, marking territory as their own.

"I've wanted this…" Dean began, pausing for his haggard breaths, "Since the first time you opened your eyes to me, Sam. Since the first words you spoke, and from then on." Dean groaned, hot against Sam's ear, "The way you fought today, god I almost took you right there." Dean panted moving down to Sam's chest, his mouth gliding over to cover a nipple. Sam gasped, his fingers tightening in Dean's hair and he felt the hand still teasing him, grip tight and firm along the base of his cock. It pulled up and twisted over the rim of his head just as sharp teeth bit hard into his nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure jolting through him.

"_Dean_." Sam choked out. The hand stopped moving against him, the lips fell away from his skin, and Sam yanked open his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_**So sorry for the incredibly delayed update, I suck. This chapter was really hard to write with writer's block and just the content itself…and I've been swamped with mid terms, but here it is. For those of you that have been following this story, careful 'cause explicit is pretty explicit compared to previous chapters.**_

_**CHAPTER WARNING: drug use, violence, rape, lotsa angst..**_

"Dean?" Collin shoved away from Sam hard enough to propel himself up against the wall, "Who the fuck have you been fantasizing about, Sam?" He yelled loud enough to turn the attention from the fire and over to the boys' scandal.

Sam stuttered apologetic nothings before scuttling backwards and up onto his feet. Without another word, Sam high tailed it and disappeared from the cave. Through the haze of his still lingering high, he ran as fast as he possibly could for as long as he could, making it about a mile.

_God damnet. How could you be so stupid?_

Sam's thoughts were screaming at him, hurling the nastiest, most hateful accusations they could conjure up to accommodate his overriding guilt. He hadn't, however, given any thought to where he'd ended up when he finally couldn't sprint anymore. But whatever rotten, slumming back road it was, he slammed against its concrete barrier and slid down till his aching body was limp on the ground, unable to move another inch.

No matter how ridiculously stupid it was to pass out in the middle of an alley in this part of the city, Sam did. He drifted quickly into his own subconscious, briefly recognizing the irony in the situation as his eyes began stinging with unshed tears. He remembered this from not long ago, this lonely alley, mourning a loss. But then it'd been for only one.

_Dean. Now Collin too. _

He was really racking up the heartache. The mistakes.

When Sam woke an insurmountable time later, he was greeted with the intense surprise that he was still intact. His pants still buttoned, his body more or less untouched. The wind had done quite the number with his now frigid muscles and numb limbs but he could deal with that. The sun was setting in the sky by the time Sam finally made it off the ground and he hobbled on as fast as he could for the first heated public place he could spot.

Sam was thankful for one that it was nearly night time and he wouldn't have hours to kill before he had something to keep him busy, and two that the first warm place he saw was a bar. Exactly what he needed to keep his mind off things, or at least try.

Sam shook his head, loosening his body with a shudder before he yanked open the heavy wood door and stumbled inside, feigning drunk. His half-lidded eyes and goofy, slack grin were the quick and obvious tell-tale signs he would need to do some hard core hustling tonight. Sam threw himself down onto a stool gripping the bar to keep from toppling over the edge, and once he was righted, ordered a whiskey.

He spun in his chair and scoped out any possible competition, eyes scanning over the rows of pool tables along the back. Three hours later he had a thousand dollars in his back pocket and most of the bar's population huddled around his last game.

"Whoa, hold up." Sam's challenger stopped him before he took his easy shot on the eight ball, "Let's make this interesting." He stood and held his stick upright at his side.

"I thought it already was." Sam swayed trying to keep the drunk pretense up as he waggled his eyebrows at the guy. The crowd behind him hooted in approval and cheered him on.

"Yeah, yeah." He quieted them down. "Three hundred bucks says you can't bank off this wall, hit here, there," The guy gestured around the table, "and sink it off in that right pocket." The man wiggled his brow back and licked his bottom lip, smiling.

Sam pretended to consider it with deep concern, but in all honestly it seemed pretty straightforward. If you knew the angles, it didn't matter how you wanted to sink it, it could almost always be done.

Sam kept his frown in place as he nodded, "You're on." He slurred and sauntered around the table to lean over in front of his cue ball at the new angle. Just as he leaned over and lined up the shot, he felt something brush over his ass and slide into his pocket.

"My money's on you, baby." A girl behind him tucked a twenty into his pocket and winked.

_Hm, could be interesting. _

He hadn't been with a girl in a while and as far as they went, this one was just his type – grade A blond bomb shell. He winked back to her and then faced his game again more eager than ever to make this shot, so he went for the kill.

A loud clunk, bounce, bounce, thump, clink and in it soared without so much as a hitch. The bar erupted in drunken applause just as his sore loser of an opponent broke his pool stick against the table.

"You're kidding me!" He yelled raising his hands to his head in denial and crazed anger, "You hustlin' me boy?" He finally spun to face Sam, gripping half of his now splintered pool stick tight in his right hand. The bouncers rushed over just as the bar quieted down dispersing and the man advanced on him. Sam didn't flinch, just watched and slowly followed as the man was drug out of the bar and out back where they discarded him. He waited for the bouncers to leave the guy alone outside before meeting him, hoping no crowd would follow for a fight.

"That was a double or nothin' game man, plus the extra bit there at the end." Sam grinned devilishly, "And my pocket feels a little light. About one thousand three hundred dollars light if you wanna get technical."

"You little sonavubitch." The guy rushed him again, this time though without the weapon to Sam's great appreciation. He was in no mood for a demanding fight. Sam sighed and cocked his fist at the last second, landing four well placed clocks to his face, effectively putting the unsuspecting man on the ground with the last vigorous right hook.

"No mood to play games dude. Sorry." He muttered as he patted the nearly unconscious guy down fishing for a wallet. "Wow," Sam breathed finding the roll of twenties in one of his pockets. He sorted out the honest amount he was due and tucked the rest back in the man's pants. He hadn't expected it to have been so easy as he walked away completely unscathed and carrying the exact total he was allocated; who carried that much cash around with them?

His high spirits were a surprising and unexpected addition to the gift of cash as he left the bar with a small, accomplished smile on his face.

"Helluva game in there." A seductively husky voice called from the darkness under the bar's overhang, stopping Sam in his tracks. The blond from inside stepped out to reveal herself under the light of the lamp post Sam stood under.

"Thanks." He muttered suddenly wondering where the lust he'd felt or at least the slight appeal she'd held for him earlier had gone. She took a few sauntering steps toward him, smile forming on her glistening lips.

"I won a lot of money on that last game. Let me give you a proper thank you." She said slowly unzipping the form-fitting leather jacket she wore enough to reveal the close to perfect breasts underneath, begging to be completely unsheathed.

Sam knew beauty when he saw it, he wasn't an idiot. Collin was beautiful, this woman….very beautiful. And Dean. Dean was the meaning of the word. But beauty wasn't enough tonight. Not even close. The attraction was gone – the sullen, self-loathing thoughts replaced it.

"I already got quite the thank you for that game, don't worry about it." Sam smirked patting his pocket once to prove his point before he walked away.

"Seriously?"

Sam hummed, "Sorry." He waved not bothering to turn around as he headed out, "Got things to do." He muttered as he headed off toward the cave.

_I think this is about what I owe you. Money wise at least. In a lot of other ways I owe you everything, but this is all I've got to offer for now. So think about saving it and getting yourself out of here. You deserve so much better._

_Sam. _

Sam folded the note up and clipped it to the roll of hundreds and twenties before descending the last few steps to the cave – taking his chances that Collin wouldn't be there. He blew out a short breath before summoning the courage to turn the corner and slip through the hole into the room. His eyes bounced around the place, trying to spot a figure in the darkness. There were none, no one was here. He guessed they were all still out working as he started toward the ruffle of sheets in the corner. Collin's corner.

The sigh he let fall from his parted lips was a broken, longing one – one that wished he could call this dingy dump home again. It hadn't been paradise, but it'd been stable: something to retreat to when the day was done. It was significantly worse than the motels he used to shack up in, but at least this had been constant. Or at least he thought it would've been.

Sam knelt down by the covers and tucked the note and money into his pillow knowing he'd find it when he laid down that night. He didn't want to risk one of the others finding it out in the open before Collin returned.

"Bye." Sam whispered into the deafening silence and left the cave with no intention of ever returning.

THREE WEEKS LATER

The rush was the best part, Sam thought as he plunged the syringe into his arm and watched the blood cloud in the needle to mix with the drug before draining it all into his veins.

_Just the first minute or two._

Sam continued as the heroin concentrated before spreading through his system. He'd been buying from Collin's dealer, the easiest way he'd known to get the drug, since the last day he'd been to the cave and every time he needed more after. Which had been often, to much of Sam's disapproval.

He was addicted; it was pretty safe to say now. Maybe he'd been hooked since the first moment he'd felt it rushing through his veins – that unadulterated relief, that first real breath of air, of complete bliss. But either way it was his only lifeline now, as he was living on the most discrete corner of the back allies he'd been able to find, scraping by from day to day. His life had been reduced to hustling pool for more heroin, supplies and weapons. Even in his drugged up stupor, he knew this new living arrangement was ten times more dangerous than the cave and he made sure he'd be ready for anything. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be around for the H anymore, and for him that thought was unacceptable. What else was there to live for in this new existence he'd adopted? Nothing.

Sam slid down the side of the wall of his new base and closed his eyes basking in the high that quickly settled over him. He drown out the sounds of the city around him: a dog barking, sirens crying, horns honking, and melted into the hard pavement imagining a whole new life for himself in a matter of seconds. A life where there was more to live for than this.

Dean and he were back on the road, together how they should be as more than just brothers – saving people from every evil bastard they could track down. They didn't need money, they didn't need a home, they were everything the other needed, living off the unadulterated, irrevocable love they had for each other. It made everything worth it.

Sam was so engrossed in his mild-mannered fantasy he didn't hear the subtle footsteps approaching him or the whooshing sound of passing air, for that matter, as something big and completely unforgiving crashed into his head. Maybe he wasn't prepared for _everything, _he thought before he was out and hitting the ground.

He woke to laughter: hard, sharp, irritating laughter. He didn't open his eyes though, he wasn't sure he could – just feebly tried to move as panic welled up inside him. It was as if his whole body was sinking in molasses. He barely got his fingers twitching, his arms trying to lift, when the laughter died down and amused murmuring took its place.

"…think our little pals wakin' up." Sam finally understood, making out the words he'd been hearing as he tried once again to open his eyes. All he managed though was a soft groan as a hand slapped across his face, hard enough for him to see stars behind his stubborn lids. He tried again to fight back, open his eyes, move _something_, but whoever these people were, they'd drugged him. Almost paralyzed him with whatever it was.

Finally, he could slip his eyes open just a crack, to see nothing but blackness.

_Give me a damn break. _

Wherever he was, it was almost pitch black: he was outside, that much he knew, and with it he had to guess night had fallen. He must've been out for hours because last thing he remembered it'd been around noon. Damn, what had they given him? His eyes began to adjust a little, letting the moon shed the little light it could on his surroundings. A chain link fence in front of him was all he could make out before another earth shattering blow landed to his right eye, effectively putting him on his side and on the ground.

Sam moaned again managing to find his face with his hand, trying weakly to protect himself from any other unexpected cheap shots. A hand grabbed his chin, forcing his face up and popping his neck.

"Miss me kid?" The man said into Sam's forced open mouth. He heard the British tinge to the words and, with a swell of panicked dread, knew immediately who he was dealing with.

_X._

Sam forced open his eyes again, the right one severely protesting, and looked into Xavier's as he descended toward him again. He was an inch away at most when he nipped at Sam's lower lip, tongue slipping over the bite and pushing its way into his mouth. Sam forced his eyes shut then, trying desperately to back away as he felt the prodding invasion slide over his teeth, his tongue. Sam shuddered as Xavier backed out of his mouth and his hand fell away from his jaw, free.

"I think he likes that, boys." Xavier chuckled getting another round of laughter in response. The grimace relaxed from Sam's face taking too much effort to hold and he opened his eyes once again. He didn't want to see any of this, but with as much energy as it took to move right now, being aware of what happened around him was the most protection he could offer himself.

One of X's minions pulled something out of his pocket and slipped across the ground to kneel beside him. He didn't get a good look at his face before his mouth was covering Sam's, feeling around, shoving so deep Sam gagged. He could taste cheese burger and onion and cheap whiskey all stale on the other's man tongue as it prodded around his mouth.

He heard a moan from the man as he fell away from his lips and Sam exhaled a short breath of mild relief. "Sweet." The guy whispered into Sam's ear before biting down on his neck. He flinched trying to push him away, but that was the most he could manage with the drugs still weighing heavily on him as he felt the teeth sink down into his skin.

"Last chance," Sam heard from the man as he backed up once again, "Anyone else wanna taste?" He sneered, "The boy aint half bad if you ask me." Sam peered over to see what he was talking about and found a gag and duct tape held up in his hands.

"Nah, we got more pressing matters to tend to." Xavier said with a sneer, motioning for the guy to continue. Sam held a hand up in front of his face trying to stop him from advancing but his efforts were quickly ignored and his hand slapped out of the way before the rag was stuffed deep into his mouth. His gag reflex objected again as it touched the back of his throat and tape was wrapped around his head several times till there was no chance of clawing it off. Sam tried to steady his ragged, choking breaths focusing on breathing through his nose as his gag reflex tried again and again to move the obstruction from his air ways.

"Let's get to it then." X said slapping his friends with a cocky, eager grin, "It's been too long since we got this kinda fun." He knelt down next to Sam again, "The revenge's just icin' on the cake, huh boy?" He slapped his cheek a couple times, his thrill coming off in the jerky, rushed movements.

"Ah, I've been looking forward to this." He breathed onto Sam's face as his hands ran down his torso roughly, digging into each curve and contour of muscle. Sam pulled his head back and snapped it forward into Xavier's, knocking him backwards and onto his ass.

Sam laughed in his head seeing the look on his face, but with the drugs it wasn't enough power to do anything more than piss him off. Sam's amusement faded as X's face twisted up into a snarl so infuriated he felt a chill run down his spine. He stood, strutting back toward Sam. Xavier held up a hand as the others tried to help him, "I'll take care of it." He spit and threw his leg back to force it down onto Sam's recently cracked ribs.

Sam grunted behind the gag in his mouth and tried to double over to protect his side when the boot came down on the same place again. And again, and again and again.

A fresh surge of panic rushed through Sam as he couldn't get enough air into his lungs; he was gagging and choking on the rag and the knife in his ribs was twisting with every breath, knocking the wind out of him. Sam moaned and coughed and grabbed at Xavier's jacket when he bent down to straddle him, clawing at his chest, begging for help. He couldn't breathe.

"Somethin' the matter?" He chuckled in Sam's face back handing him again.

_Okay Sam, you gotta calm down, man. Just breathe._

Sam recited to himself, trying to get air in through his nose and calm his erratic heart. Xavier's hands began roaming again over his torso, stopping above his belt buckle.

_Shit, no. Please. Beat me, break every bone. I don't care. But not that._

Sam pleaded in his mind as hands undid his pants, exploring over the soft bulge under his boxers. He squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to ignore this, half heartedly promising himself he could block out whatever else they did to him, using his struggle for air as a distraction. But then the hand moved further down, cupping his balls in one palm, pulling at the course hair surrounding and Sam just couldn't take it. His hands flew up, pushing at the chest in front of him and at the arm exploring down his pants.

"Get his hands." Xavier barked at the others around him and Sam's flailing arms were caught quickly, pinned down to the ground on either side of him. Both the men at his sides stood back up as their boots crunched down on the bones under them, very effectively securing him.

Sam's cry was blocked out and choked by the rough cloth in his mouth.

"You better keep quiet Sam. You'll have hell to pay if you get us caught." Xavier whispered directly into his ear, wet lips brushing over his skin as the hand still in his pants clamped down around Sam's balls impossibly tight, nails digging into the soft flesh as his vice grip kept tightening.

He screamed out for one short second, unable to stop the instinct reaction to pain so intense, but the hand just squeezed harder so he bit down on the rag to silence himself, settling for writhing and jerking under the fiery grip. He felt blood heat his face, the tendons strain in his neck and his whole body bow off the ground as the pain broke him out in a cold sweat, wracking his muscles in tremors. He panted harsh croaky moans, waiting for it to stop, begging for him to stop.

"What you don't like me touchin' you boy?" He said after a couple more seconds and tugged on his sack before loosening his hold, moving back up to Sam's dick. He couldn't feel the touch though; Sam couldn't feel anything over the intense burn and ache in his groin, making his stomach churn and threaten to empty itself.

_Don't do it. Don't. You're okay. Just breathe. _

Sam chanted again, pushing the nausea away. If he was sick he'd suffocate. He'd die… But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing considering what he knew they planned to do to him soon.

"Get off him." Xavier ordered waving the shoes off Sam's flattened hands. Suddenly another set of hands were on him, flipping him over onto his stomach. Sam pushed off the ground though, resisting this position with better leverage as the drugs were becoming easier to fight.

"Ah, ah, ah." One of them waved a finger in front of his face slamming him back down and grinding his head into the pavement, "You don't want us to tie you up now do ya?" Sam gave the guy an incensed glare before trying to jerk out from under his hand again. "Alright then, maybe you're into that kinda thing." He snickered and pulled Sam's throbbing hands above his head, ruthlessly securing them with rope that he knew would soon rub his wrists bloody.

His already unbuttoned pants were tugged down and he felt the chill of the pavement seep into his legs, soon spreading all over and freezing every inch of him. Next went his boxers despite his frantic efforts to fight them off – he probably shouldn't have tried, it just made it worse. Only fueled them to be rougher, stronger, more brutal. Thin, sharp nails tore down his back after yanking his sweatshirt up high, blood following in their trail.

Sam gnawed on the rag, back arching as he threw his head back trying to escape the claws. "…yeah give it to me." Sam listened, trying to overhear the whispering going on behind him as the nails fell away. Give him what? Something heavy and most likely metal screeched across the ground, "Thanks." He heard muttered behind him before he felt a body glide up along his back and stop when lips was puffing hot air against his ear.

"You thought it was over last time we met didn't ya?" Xavier said licking his way into the shell of his ear, Sam tried shaking him off only to be slammed back down into the ground with someone's foot. The pain in his ribs became unbearable under the pressure of the boot and he stopped fighting. "No one beats on us and _walks_ away to tell the tale." Sam didn't at all like the implications hidden behind the threat, no matter how ridiculous Xavier sounded saying it.

Cool hands spread him wide before something blunt, hard and freezing pressed between his bare ass cheeks.

_Oh god. Don't do this._

Sam growled behind the gag and tried to thrash out from under the pressure of the foot holding him down, ready to do anything to avoid this and ignoring the agonized protest of his ribs. The roughly rounded end of the metal pressed harder against his tight and twitching hole. Already his body was rejecting the intrusion as his muscles clamped together but with one jerky shove, whatever they had was as far in him as it could go and his resistance didn't matter. The tool split him down the middle, ripped him in two and scrapped against places inside him he didn't even know existed.

Sam's scream was barely muffled by the gag this time, echoing around the confines of the dark back alley and drowning out everything else he couldn't hear.

He'd never felt pain like this, and he'd encountered a lot of agony in his life, but this was unrivaled. Irrepressible tears rushed to his eyes falling as fast as they came in an endless stream. Xavier muttered snide nothings in his ear as he jerked the metal bar in and out, pulling on Sam's hair at the back of his skull. But Sam didn't understand any of what he said. He couldn't hear much past the pounding blood in his skull and the shrill sobbing cries sounding behind his gag.

_Please. Stop._

He begged to himself for the hundredth time, unable to form any other coherent thoughts, when finally the invasive tool was tugged from him, pulling on his dangerously abused insides, slick with blood as it clattered to the ground. He was left a silent and trembling mass of agony and whimpered into the cloth still shoved nearly down his throat, struggling to breathe through the pain and fear tightening his lungs. His vision was swimming with the need for oxygen as much as it was from the pain. He felt like the whole bottom of his stomach had been torn up and ripped out of him, everything burned with a pulsing, searing agony.

It was a few minutes before Sam was calm enough to understand the murmurs behind him again.

"…leave him…lost my interest." The voices faded in and out as Sam fought to stay conscious, the burning torment still horribly present as the sting in his ribs terrorized him, ready to tug him under at any second.

"…not gonna fuck him?...he deserves it..."

"Do what you want…bored..."

"…the hell?…the point of this then?"

"…teach the little bastard a lesson…idiot…"

Sam listened to the arguing behind him, hoping the rest of them took Xavier's lead and left him alone, got bored, anything. The voices quieted and Sam listened to footsteps fade as they left. He lifted his head and peered behind him, finding the three others still standing there, deliberating.

"I'll go see what's up his ass." One of them said realizing the joke in his choice of words right away as he bust out cackling, "Hopefully not a crowbar cause that looked a little painful. Huh there Sammy boy?" The guy continued, kicking him in the leg. Sam winced as his body was jostled and he put his cheek back to the cool pavement, quickly growing too tired, too empty to care what they said or did to him. He listened to the second set of steps silence as they grew farther away and waited to see what the last two would do.

"Well, I'm not lettin' them spoil the fun." One finally said, "Whatdya say man? Stickin' around?" Sam listened to shuffling across the ground and the clanking of a belt buckle coming undone.

"Yeah, what the hell."

_No. Please._

The thought of bottoming for a man was worse than a crow bar and it suddenly had Sam caring again. They couldn't do this, not _them_. It was never meant for them.

Sam wouldn't ever admit it out loud, but he'd always secretly thought that when and if the time ever came, he'd share that most intimate experience with Dean. He always felt stupid for even thinking it, he knew it'd never happen, but still. Dean was the only person in the world he trusted enough to give it to, the only person he ever loved enough.

He felt the heat of another body hovering over him again, tearing him from his longing, distant thoughts as a mouth was pressed up beside his ear.

"Hey Sammy, you still with us?" His coarse voice rumbled, "Wouldn't want you fallin' asleep for this. Just be rude." He muttered slapping Sam's balls tauntingly, fully aware and basking in the pain he caused. Sam jolted up with a cry, trying to shake him off, anything – they couldn't do this, they just couldn't – but his ribs were stopping him from moving too severely and the shock of the fresh pain was a little stunning. As if that wasn't enough to keep him down though, a metal-toed boot crashed into the side of his head and Sam collapsed, wishing the blow had knocked him unconscious. The man above him wasted no time after that before he plunged easily into his stretched, torn and bloodied hole.

_Stop, god please stop. _

Sam's nails dug into the pavement as a tortured cry escaped him, scratching themselves bloody against the jagged pavement. He did no more than damage his broken fingers further as the man grabbed a hold of his hair and held him down, pounding into him with abandon. He felt the intruding dick rubbing and pulling against every searing tear inside him, increasing the seeping blood flow, stinging and burning with a ferocity he couldn't quite comprehend and rocking both their bodies back and forth against the rough tar.

His anguished cries were the only thing he could manage and they drowned all else out, the only thing left being his own wretched despondency. And just as Sam began to feel death would be a nice escape, a lifeline was given. Something hard but small hit the top of Sam's head and clattered to the ground next to his bound hands. A cell phone. He waited for the man above him to realize he lost it and take it back, but he didn't. It sat there, staring at Sam, screaming at him to pick it up before one of them noticed.

He slid his hands a few inches to the right and covered the phone trying to ignore the protests from his broken fingers and felt for the number pad on the front. He faced the light away from them and began searching for the right buttons, pressing the number into the pad and finding the dial button.

Collin didn't answer.

_God damnet all to hell._

Of course he didn't. He wouldn't recognize the number.

Sam gripped the phone tight and waited, not ready to press his luck any further and get caught with it. The man was still furiously thrusting and grunting behind him as he grasped and clawed at Sam's hips, pulling them up higher until he was forced onto his knees.

The man yanked himself out and Sam sobbed at the horrible friction as skin caught on torn muscle and pulled. The guy didn't miss a beat though before he tore Sam's pants down to his ankles and spread his knees wide enough to pull on the inner junctions of his groin.

Sam grunted at the new pain but relished in the break his burning insides got as the man resituated himself behind him. He didn't have much time to savor the moment though before the guy pushed down on the small of his back, forcing his pelvis further into the ground and tearing at the muscles of his inner thighs, stretching them impossibly further.

Sam yelled a hoarse, throaty cry as new tears leaked from his eyes, wetting the gag; he listened in hopeless despair as the man muttered behind him, "damn that's fuckin' hot," all breathy and needy, making Sam's stomach flip. He couldn't find any strength or will to try and right himself and ease the new stretching burn, knowing the man would only force him back down again if he tried.

Sam didn't have long to dwell before he was impaled again, shoved full and prodded so deep he could've sworn he felt it low in his belly, the thought alone making him gag again. He gave another half hearted shout he couldn't restrain as the man started up his jerky, harsh rhythm and waited out the proceeding torture: trying not to cry, trying not to scream, trying not to break the phone in his iron clasp grip.

Lifetimes passed before they were both finished with Sam and he was alone, listening to the laughter die out as the two disappeared. He was left a twitching, writhing mess and curled onto his side, taking pressure off his broken ribs. He pulled at the tape on his face, wincing as it yanked at his hair and raw cheek, and then undid the rope with his teeth until he was free. He tugged up his pants best he could, shivering and moaning as the pain begged him to stop moving.

Never in his life had he felt as alone as he did in that moment, staring into the darkness before him and wondering again if death would be the only thing left enough to save him.

Sam shuddered instantly refusing to believe that. There would always be something else there to save him. Always.

Sam brought the phone up to his face using the little strength he had left to dial the one number that would always be engraved into his mind.

It rang once before he heard the savoir on the other end.

"Dean." Sam rasped, eyes sliding half closed in exhaustion and listening to soft stammered reply. He knew right then, he could live to hear that voice. It would always be enough.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Warning: Wee bit a wincest, not near enough for my liking but if it's not for you, ya know. Um bad words acourse and hurt Sammy cause it's me and I just love watchin' Dean take care of him.. :]**_

"S-Sammy?" Dean finally stammered out, shock twisting his tongue into knots, "Is that you?" He finished, his voice growing an octave higher.

"I'm…so sorry Dea…" Sam's heavy breath was blowing static through the phone, cutting off his words and lengthening his pauses. He sounded exhausted and delirious.

Or hurt.

"Sam where are you?" Dean snapped through tight lips, his voice hard. He was even more frantic to find his brother now that he had access to the answers he needed, if he let this call end without them he'd die; he was sure. "_Sam_." Dean almost yelled in a growl.

His ears were so strained listening for any sign of movement or noise, he nearly fell on his ass tripping over himself when Bobby walked in and called out his name. Dean threw an exasperated glare and a hand up to the man after steadying himself, returning to his focused hearing.

"Sam? Still with me bro?" Dean asked, quieter this time.

"I…" Dean's heart leapt at the response, "I just…wanted you to love me." And it broke just as quickly. Sam's nearly inaudible, unbearably small voice tore little holes in Dean's heart, shattering him with their words.

"Sam," Dean's voice shook, raw and tense, "Please. _Where are you_?"

"New York…City."

_Fuckin' fantastic. It's only the most populous city in the world… And has a warrant for my arrest._

"Are you hurt Sam? Do you know you're address?"

"Spring." Sam's voice was getting harder and harder to understand every passing second, muffled with the struggle to stay conscious it sounded, "Sprin…stree…" Dean was in a frenzy, frantic and panicked.

"Bobby, get a plane ticket to New York leaving soon as possible." He instructed swiftly, pacing around the room.

"Spring street? Is that it? No name of a motel or something?" Then Dean thought on Sam's answer a second, "Are you outside Sam?"

"Alley." Sam whispered. Dean's stomach dropped as if he'd just been thrown into a free fall a hundred stories up.

_Sam._

Before Dean could say anything, or even find his voice to respond, Sam was speaking again soft as ever. He strained to hear.

"Dean…so sorry. 'M sorry…" He heard Sam's breath hitch and hiccup, "It should've…been you."

A tear rolled from Dean's eye, one he wouldn't even try and deny. Whatever his brother was talking about, he sounded on the verge of death. And Dean was over two hundred miles away.

"Always should've been you." Sam finished; there was a clattering on the other end, as if the phone had been dropped.

"Sam?" Dean yelled not waiting more than a second for a response before he hung up, knowing he'd be a hell of a lot more useful in person than over the damn phone.

"Ticket Bobby?"

"Yeah, leaves in an hour." He handed him a crisp piece of printed paper and Dean nodded in appreciation before disappearing out front to his Impala.

His phone rang once in the car and he almost swerved off the road as his heart stuttered to a stop. Then he caught the caller ID. Not Sam.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice rumbled in the car, deepened with tension as he sped down the high way.

"Alright Dean, now that you've got a minute, mind tellin' me what the hell's goin' on?"

"I'm goin' to New York to get Sam."

"Obviously," Bobby growled into the receiver, Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, "What'd he say?" He continued a little calmer, "The kid okay?"

Dean breathed heavy through flared nostrils, jaw twitching before he calmed himself enough to answer, "Not really Bobby. He didn't say much." He sighed, "He-he didn't sound like he could. Like he was fighting to stay-"

"Stay what Dean?"

_Alive._

"Conscious."

Static rustled through the phone, "Damnet." Bobby muttered, "Alright, call me soon as ya land. Sure you don't want me comin' with?"

"No Bobby, I'll be alright." Dean paused a moment, "We'll be alright."

The line went dead moments later and he listened to the dial tone a while longer than he needed to before snapping the phone shut.

Dean didn't stopped moving: waiting in the line to check in at the airport, waiting at the gate to board, waiting on the plane to take off, waiting on the plane to land; he never stopped moving. Twitching, shaking his leg, twiddling his fucking thumbs, it didn't matter he just couldn't sit still. The moment he did, seconds took on a sickeningly slow pace, taunting him with their lethargy and flooding his mind with images of his baby brother dead in some trashy back alley.

_Sammy._

Hours, lifetimes, centuries passed, Dean didn't know or care, before the plane finally shuddered and slammed to the ground, wheezing as it slowed to a standstill. He shoved his way through the isle the second the doors opened ignoring the irritated and stunned protests as he pushed people out of the way. Dean broke into a sprint the minute he escaped the crowd and ran off the plane, not stopping until he was through the exit of the airport and tapping urgently on the passenger door of a taxi out front.

"Hey, I need to get to Spring Street." Dean barked climbing into the back seat.

The driver was rattled at the exigency in his voice and struggled to get his response out.

"Is New York City, more dan one Spring Street. What does intersect with?" The driver stammered, sporting some thick accent Dean couldn't place – English was definitely not his first language.

_Wonderful._

"Shit. Uh, I don't know." Dean huffed drumming his fingers along the back of the seat, knee bouncing and shaking the car, "It would be…it would be like a bad part of town. Like an alley maybe, shit I don't-"

"Yes," The driver started the cab, "Only one out there. By warehouses. Long way. Across city. Hour maybe?"

"Triple the fare if you cut it in half." Dean said still shaking with anxiety and just a hint of relief as the tires spun peeling out of the spot.

Dean dialed Bobby after a few painstakingly slow minutes in the car, surprised he'd remembered.

"Landed," Dean barked as a greeting, "On my way now."

Bobby sighed in relief, "Bet that plane ride was a bitch for ya." He chuckled half-heartedly. Dean was confused for a minute.

_Fear of flying. Right._

Dean blew out a humorless laugh, understanding, "Right. Uh, no. Didn't notice really. Call ya when I get Sam."

"Alright boy. Be careful." Dean grunted in assent and hung up, closing his eyes as the overheated skin of his cheek hit the foggy window. It was freezing out, and Sam was in it – had been for hours if he was still where he said he'd be. Panic crept up Dean's spine at the thought of finding an empty alley in his search.

_Shut up you idiot. Of course he's still there. Where the hell else would he go, he can't even move._

_He can't even move. _

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

_God, he's dead. What if he's-? _

Den moaned quietly pushing back his nausea, fervidly rejecting the thought in every way. Because it just wouldn't be possible.

"We almost there, sir?" Dean muttered trying not to let his fear or anguish or tension of any kind seep into his tone. Pissing off the driver would get him there no faster.

"Ten minutes. Been fifteen. Impossible to get faster."

"Alright." Dean said tersely fighting to keep his temper under wraps.

Time had never moved slower, but eventually the cab was weaving through narrower streets, passing random abandoned homes and shops.

_Spring_

He'd never loved or hated the sight of a word more in his entire life. He yanked the door open before they came to a stop and leapt from the car. He spun around to run backwards a few steps, holding his hands up as he yelled to the driver, "Wait here." The man sputtered and fumbled to get out of the car, wildly enraged he hadn't gotten his cash.

Dean tore down the road, the foggy gray sky and piercing wind urging him on all the faster.

_Sam's out in this._

The alley grew darker as street lamps became scarcer and he shot a quick glance over his shoulder noticing the cab was far enough away that it became a mere yellow smudge in the distance.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, eyes bouncing off every shattered bottle and stinking dumpster he passed, giving quick once-overs to the intersecting mini alleys on Spring.

_Spring. Of all the fucking names._

Dean's labored breath billowed white puffs of steam around his face as he spun, trying to quiet himself in search of a sound_. Any_ sound.

Something like a shoe scrapped along the faded pavement sounded off to his right where a tunnel of unabashed blackness awaited him: one of the mini streets that branched off Spring. One of the darker ones.

As a hunter, a flashlight was almost always a necessity in everyday situations; but as it was, Dean had brought nothing short of what had been in his pockets before racing off. A cell phone and his wallet.

He flipped open the phone and pointed light down toward the enclosing pit of nothing, wading in, following whatever trail he could find.

"Sam?" Dean's voice grumbled and vibrated through the darkness before another rustle sounded off ahead – some sort of scrapping against the ground. "Sammy?" He asked, voice steadying an octave higher. A moan.

His guts wrenched at the agonized sound and he rushed forward, feeling his way around to the ground. Something appeared up ahead pulling his attention: a small white light. Dean lunged the few paces it took to get there and knelt down beside a lumpy shape huddled next to the source of light. A cell phone, he saw clutched tight in a battered hand.

"Sam?" Dean's breath caught in a tearless sob as he pulled on the figure, revealing the face that rolled over toward him.

His Sammy's face, eyes half closed in delirium, brow wrinkled up in pain, body trembling with a chill of the crisp night wind. "Sammy."

"Dea…" Sam's hand came up, bloody and bruised, to flail at the front of Dean's shirt, trying to grasp onto something. "Shh brother. It'll be okay. I'm here." Dean lifted Sam's head cradling it in his lap as he pressed a couple fingers to the slow but _there_ pulse in his brother's neck and then moved his knuckles to brush across his chin, quiet tears sliding down Dean's nose, "I'm gonna take care of you."

He had to get Sam somewhere warm fast. His lips had a dangerous blue tint to them as they parted in a short, agonized breath and his body wracked with another gust of wind. The hospital was out of the question though; he would not be dragged to jail in the midst of trying to save his brother. He wouldn't leave him _alone_. There was no way.

With the steady, though faint, pulse he'd felt, Dean reassured himself he could handle this. He could take care of his Sammy and he would, no matter what.

Dean bent further down to scoop his lengthy brother up under the knees and neck, trying to keep his head from lolling. Sam's face twisted up in torment as his body was jostled and Dean felt it then, wet and thick seeping into his jeans, running over his hands. Blood, everywhere. Sam had been lying in a puddle of it, the back of his clothes soaked to a dark crimson.

"God Sam. What happened? " Dean choked, settling Sam back on his bent knees; he was too gone to answer though. Too tired, too cold, too hurt.

Dean didn't have time seek out the source of the bleeding though, he had to get Sam inside somewhere. He was ready to stand again, his mind trying to detach itself from the situation to work functionally when the phone Sam had been clutching slipped from his hands and landed on its side, still shining a dim white light from its screen.

Time seemed to slow down as a couple things happened at once, spurring a flood of thoughts clicking together in Dean's mind. The light from the phone bounced around until it landed still, casting strange angled shadows over everything in its path. The gleam of a belt buckle caught his eye and he looked down to see Sam's pants undone, hanging loose around his waist. And Dean turned his head back up to look more closely at the scene the light so graciously revealed.

The puddle of blood he'd felt before was soaking into a dirty rag. A rag that was stuck to a long tangled piece of duct tape and a longer piece of bloodied rope.

And a crow bar lay a few feet over, shining proudly in the light, dry blood coating one end. One end that was _bent_ from a hook to lay flat against itself, almost as if whoever used it needed it to fit-

Everything snapped into focus.

_Oh, god. Ohgod. The blood on his clothes, the unbuckled pants, the gag, the rope. No, no, no, no, no._

The _only_ reason Dean didn't hurl his guts out right there was the ever precious body, limp and still trembling in his arms, desperate for his help. For his strength.

"Okay," Dean sobbed, hiccupping to regain his breath, "Okay Sam. We're gonna be okay. I've got you." Dean stood, pulling himself together and at the same time leaving a piece of himself behind in that alley. A broken, devastated, irreplaceable piece that would always remember what he saw there that day.

He tried to block out the guttural moan of pain as Sam was moved again and his hand came up pushing feebly against Dean's chest, trying once more to find purchase.

"Relax Sam." Dean whispered into Sam's hair pressing a kiss to his matted locks, "We're gonna get you home. We'll get you better. Just relax." Dean wished with all his heart he could bring Sam home, _give_ him a home. A life. Maybe then he wouldn't have run away – this wouldn't have happened.

Finally stepping out from the lightless alley, Dean's heart nearly jumped from his body when he saw the blur of yellow at the end of the broken road, still waiting. The taxi seemed to spot him as it backed up and turned into the street, racing toward them. Dean quickly stepped out of the way as the driver swerved and screeched to a stop.

"You pay now!" He yelled rolling down the passenger window; Dean shook his head in disbelief a little scared at how easily the man could disregard the wrecked body in his arms.

"I need to get to the nearest motel," He said as he climbed in the back ignoring the driver's arguments and pulled his wallet out. He threw all the money he had into the front seat and turned his attention back to Sam.

"Americans." He muttered before slamming on the gas pedal.

"Hey," Dean snarled as the car slammed over a pot hole, "Fuckin' take it easy."

"Yeah, yeah. Get blood on seat, pay for new car." The man sneered into the rear view mirror with a thumbs up. Dean about knocked him out right there, speeding down the main road with pure, mutinous fury sizzling up his spine.

The _only_ reason he didn't was the ever precious body still curled up and quivering in his arms.

_Sammy._

He took the next lasting five minutes of the ride to do a more thorough check on Sam's injuries and get their full extent. The most visible one being the massive shiner blooming from Sam's right temple, reaching far enough to swell his eye shut. Discerning from the bruise, Sam most likely had a concussion. Dean prayed it wasn't severe.

His whole body was covered in grime, dirt – whatever the alley ground had been crawling with – except the few distinct lines he noticed down his cheeks: tear tracks. In the eighteen years of Sam's life, Dean had seen Sam cry a handful of times since he was a child.

The sight shattered him all over again.

He moved down Sam's body jaw tightening as he tore his mind away from horrifying images of his brother writhing on the ground, _crying_ as he was tortured, and lifted Sam's shirt to continue his check.

_Jesus Christ._

Dean's hand froze when he saw the black, blue and all different shades of red that coated every inch of ribs on his right, reaching from under his armpit down to his navel. Little bruises like finger prints drew Dean's attention next down to his hips, pushing the bile back up in his throat as tears leaked from his eyes. His fingers brushed lightly over a scar under the discoloration of his left hip; two cuts crisscrossed into an 'X'.

_What the hell?_

Dean stopped his search pulling the shirt back down – he couldn't do it in the confines of the jostling car anymore, he'd puke. Or pass out. It was too much. He was still reeling from the fact that after two months, his Sammy was back in his arms. He couldn't process all the rest. Not here.

They arrived at the motel quicker than he'd hoped and Dean settled Sam in the back seat of the cab, left the door wide open and ran inside to book a room. Dean could hardly keep his eyes on the clerk trying to get his attention to pay as he was constantly glancing out the window to make sure Sam was still there. The door slammed behind them as he carried Sam into their room laying him down on the king sized bed. He immediately began racing around like a frenzied whirlwind to get water, hot rags, and start the tub almost simultaneously.

"Hey Sam," he sat down lightly next to his brother, cursing himself for not bringing a change of clothes. Sam could really use them after the bath considering what he was wearing now. "How you doin' buddy?" Dean rasped, voice thick with distress.

Sam shuddered and winced, a damaged hand moving to his _damaged_ side.

"Cold." He murmured through frozen lips, the first coherent word he'd spoken. Dean laughed in spite of his silent tears, trailing his fingers down the unscathed side of Sam's face.

"I know," He said, "Tubs goin'. Nice and warm, promise. Think you could get in for a bit? Just sit?" He asked not fully expecting a real answer as he moved Sam's hand from his side and pushed his shirt up needing to remove it for the tub. Getting it off would be a problem though, he realized; he'd have to cut it. He reached for the knife always kept snug in his boot.

_Shit._

He'd had to leave it to get through security. Dean patted down his brother's pant leg gently, careful of any unseen injuries and found exactly what he was looking for, right where he'd always taught Sam to keep it.

"Good boy, Sammy." Dean breathed, taking the edge of the blade to Sam's shirt and cutting a straight line down the middle and through each sleeve.

"Mm." Sam moaned trying to open his eyes, wondering what was going on as his shirt fell off around him.

Dean moved his hand to Sam's already unbuckled pants and felt the wrath return, ready to eat him alive and render him useless to his brother. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to tug them of as gently as possible. He slid a hand under the low of Sam's back and lifted his hips as he inched the waist of the jeans and boxers down.

Sam's face wrinkled up again and his teeth came down on his bottom lip, hard and grating as a moan choked out of him.

"Shh Sammy, you're okay. It's alright, I've got you." Dean soothed around a barely contained sob and got the blood soaked garmets off around his ankles. Dean did sob when he saw the blood dried on the inside of Sam's thighs and swollen, darkened color of his testicles, as if they'd been squeezed too long and tugged too roughly. He averted his watery eyes as quickly as he could but the sight had him staring in horror for a second before he regained some of his self-control.

_Come on man keep it together. Sam needs you._

He coached himself trying to rein in his thoughts and keep them off the many different, horrifically graphic images he conjured of his little brother being raped, brutalized and tortured for god knows how long in the back of some filthy alley. He shook his head and ran his clean hand roughly down his face, swiping away the wet tracks and stooped to pick his brother up again.

Sam's pain was completely evident in his cry as Dean lifted him off the bed and carried him toward the bathroom. It seemed like every jostle, no matter how soft, had agony tearing through his baby brother's broken body. It wasn't surprising or anything considering what Dean could see of his injuries, but still it had more painfully stinging tears crawling down his face.

As slowly as he could, Dean lowered Sam into the luke warm water, eyes intent on his face, watching for signs to back off or go slower, anything.

Sam's face was a tight grimace again but he wasn't making any attempt to stop Dean, so he let Sam rest against the bottom of the tub, softly as he could.

"Hey Sammy, how's it feel?"

"Hot." He mumbled eyes tightly shut, "Stings."

"Okay little brother," Dean brushed the back of his hand down Sam's cheek, "It'll get better, give it a sec. Gotta warm you up." He said gently through his tear-constricted throat.

Dean watched the tub water turn a pink and brown mix as a little of the dirt and blood rinsed from Sam's skin. He quickly grabbed the hand towel by the sink and brought it back to the tub, running fresh hot water and soap over it.

Dean wiped what he could of the dried blood and dirt from Sam's face without irritating the bruise or cuts, holding his chin firm in his hand. He moved to his chest and rubbed tenderly at the skin under water, running the rag softly over the discolored ribs and then the purple spots on his hips. God the kid was just black blue and red all over. Dean put a hand under one of Sam's knees and lifted slowly, eyes once again trained on his face watching for signs to stop, that it hurt, that he was waking up. But Sam just moaned lowly and rolled his head to the side keeping his eyes closed in his exhausted delirium. Dean set his foot down on the bottom of the tub and made sure it would stay upright before moving down the length of the tub to try and see the damage.

He didn't want Sam to know he knew what happened in that alley until or unless he told him himself, but while Sam was still out of it like this, he felt an elder-brother, instinctive need to make sure the private injury wasn't bad enough to cause infection or something, knowing Sam wouldn't willingly come to him for help with something so personal, or what he would see as embarrassing. Dean watched a little blood trickle into the water from between his legs, but he couldn't see much else, so he lifted Sam's other knee, just as slowly as before and rested it up against the edge of the tub.

Dean moved further down and lifted the drain running more luke warm water to get rid of the clouds of filth and keep the water clean, taking a moment to rinse out the rag and soap it up again. Dean's gaze flashed over to Sam who, for all intents and purposes could've been sleeping, except that his eyes slit open every once in a while and he shifted around, allowing Dean to relax a little, seeing that Sam wouldn't lose consciousness from blood loss or something.

So he moved back to look between Sam's legs, feeling terrible about invading his privacy without him aware but also too concerned to dwell long on his morals. If this wound needed treatment, Sam wouldn't come to him; he'd suffer in silence until it was too late and Dean couldn't have that. So with a deep inhaled breath, he steeled himself and peered down. Immediately he felt his gag reflex working, trying to force up something from his empty stomach.

Sam's hole was a bulging swollen, raw and torn mess, but thankfully not leaking blood anymore and Dean took another deep, heaving breath as he blinked the tears from his eyes, immensely grateful that he could lift his gaze again. Though the gratification was short lived as he realized there was no way they could let those tears go without proper attention, without cleaning them. He had no doubt Sam would get an infection if they didn't.

He heaved a trembling sigh and looked at Sam again who seemed to be really sleeping now, and moved the sudsy rag to the back of his thighs getting all the blood and dirt off his skin. Soon he was about finished with bodily cleaning and decided to wake Sam up to finish the rest.

"Hey man." Dean said softly grabbing his chin in his hand, "Still with me?" He asked.

Sam made a strange but compliant noise in the back of his throat and tugged open his eyes.

"Still…here." Sam murmured, "Can't believe you found me." His voice crackled, deep in his chest trying to pull himself from the grogginess of his sleep deprived mind.

"'Course I did. I had to." Dean said simply, eyes far away as he softly rubbed the cloth down Sam's arms, watching the bloody wrists but trying to keep the parts of him above water warm. His focus returned to the present when he noticed the tremble subsiding from Sam's battered body – the blue tinge fading. "How's the water feelin' now?"

"Lil' better." Dean gave his brother a lopsided smile and turned on the faucet to add more fresh hot water as he lifted the plug on the drain again.

"Good." He said taking in an uncharacteristically shaky breath, "And you? How're you feelin'?" He asked rinsing the rag under the running water and hanging it up to grab a cup and shampoo.

"I uh…" Sam sighed and flinched, "Hurt." He cracked as much of a smile as he could manage and straightened out his legs slowly, shut his eyes and leaned back against the tub. As unusual as it was for Dean to see Sam cry, it was even rarer to see him admit the true degree of his pain.

"I-I didn't bring anything when I came," Dean stammered, "Stupid I know, but you had me pretty fuckin' freaked with your call, for good reason I see," Dean shook his head, getting back on track, "Point is, I don't have any pain meds, or first aid or…anything." He admitted, "Maybe I should take you to a hospital." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper considering the idea silently and jumping when Sam's hand came down on his arm.

"No, Dean," He said trying to put more force behind his words, "You have a warrant…for your arrest out here, don't you?" Sam stopped and caught his breath as best he could with his ribs shooting splinters up his side, "I'll be okay."

"I could just, drop you off and leave." Dean said forcing the words out of his mouth; not at all sure he was even capable of doing it.

"You…wouldn't." Sam whispered with a tiny smile, "Then you'd get your ass arrested and I'd hafta break you out…big mess." He said in-between labored breaths trying to keep steady eye contact with his brother.

Dean whispered a chuckle and rinsed Sam's soapy hair dropping any real consideration of the idea, "I'd break myself out just fine thanks."

"Right." Sam chuckled, stopping short as visible pain flared through him.

Dean winced and put a hand on Sam's shoulder in silent reassurance, listening to the hiss slip through his brother's grinding teeth.

"Alright, how 'bout we get you out and dried off." Dean said after Sam relaxed a little, satisfied with at least his hygiene now. Sam opened his eyes after a moment and attempted to sit up, "Think you can try and stand?" Dean asked as he knew there was no way he could bend into the tub and lift all 190 lbs of his brother from that angle.

"'Course," Sam mumbled obviously not keen on relying on help.

Dean put his hands under Sam's arm's and carried most of the weight as Sam rose with a deep, barely suppressed groan, barely getting his legs under him in time to catch his body weight as he was still weak and obviously in serious torment. Sam's forehead dropped to Dean's shoulder as he panted, arm's shaking with the strain of trying to stay vertical.

"Don't know…if I can…walk." Sam admitted slowly, muffling his words into Dean's t-shirt, hoping maybe he wouldn't hear as shame washed over him.

Dean grabbed a towel behind him, never letting go of Sam, and wrapped it around his brother's waist without a word. He was gentle securing it and scooped Sam easily into his arms, lugging his dripping body back to the bed.

He leaned over to put Sam down noticing the subtle shift of his brother's hips as he tried not to be placed on his back. Dean snapped his eyes over to Sam's when he saw, but his brother's face was hidden away, the subtle red flush of his good cheek giving away his disgrace or embarrassment.

Dean felt a million different words bubble up in his throat, itching to come out and take away that misplaced dishonor in his brother's eye. But he knew nothing he could say would fix this, if anything it would add fuel to the flame, bringing attention to Sam's feelings of indignity. So Dean let it go, returning to the bathroom for another towel and gently rubbing the water from his brother's longer hair, drying his chest and arms, patting delicately at the countless bruises.

"Think you're good to stay here for a couple minutes while I go grab some stuff?" Dean asked after removing the towel and tucking his naked brother under the blankets. He needed some clothes. "You hungry at all?" He asked considering what else he'd need.

"Not really." Sam shook his head, shivering again, "Yeah…I'll be fine."

"You cold still?" Dean pressed the back of his hand against Sam's forehead, "How's your head feel?"

"Dean…I'm okay. Go." Sam slurred unconvincingly, "Could use…clothes though…while you're out."

"On my list." Dean said before pressing a chaste kiss into Sam's hair and heading for the door.

"Dean," Sam called just before his brother disappeared, "Missed you." He breathed, exhaustion creeping over his features.

"Dido Sammy." Dean said, fully aware as it was happening, that the moment's memory would be one he'd carry with him forever. The heartbreak image, the strange mix of relief and sorrow bubbling in his stomach, every detail would be branded into his mind.

"Be okay little brother." Dean pleaded to no one in particular as he shut the door and bit back more reckless tears, "Please be okay."

It took all of five minutes to steal a car in this part of the city and fifteen to find a Walmart, search for what he needed, pay and get back in the car with three bags full of supplies.

Dean's heart was a throbbing, sputtering mess as he climbed out and ran up to the motel door, scrambling with the key before lodging it in. Anything could've happened in the last twenty minutes, _anything_. Sam could've slipped into a coma for all he knew, twenty minutes could change everything.

Thankfully, when Dean slammed open the door he startled Sam awake and watched his eyes – or eye – with relief as it popped open to bounce around the room in surprise.

"Dean?" Sam pulled the covers tighter over his shoulder, shaking with the wintery air that blew in through the door, "That was quick." He grated, his voice heavy with sleep.

He took a seat next to Sam and smiled shakily, almost giddy to find his brother awake as he put the bags down at the end of the bed.

"Yeah." Dean nodded and ran a hand over Sam's still wet hair. "Let's get those ribs taped." He pulled medical wrap out of one of the bags and peeled back the covers, "Can you sit up?" Dean asked, quickly cringing internally as he realized what he'd asked and the position that put his brother in. He didn't want to pressure Sam in telling him the extent of his injuries until he was comfortable with it.

"Or you know, just prop yourself up." He backtracked. Sam gave him a quick curious look but Dean wouldn't meet his eyes as he helped Sam onto his elbow. The youngest brother seemed to let it go quickly as moving around spiked pain through him again and he lost any train of thought.

Dean quickly and methodically took care of Sam's ribs doing his damnest not to hurt his little brother, knowing the pressure over broken ribs was excruciating no matter what you did. He taped off the wrap and let Sam back down on his side, "Alright Sam, worst's over." He reassured listening to Sam's shaken breath slowly even out, "I think." He added under his breath moving to his thrashed hands.

"You think their broken?" Dean asked, gently holding one in his own, putting delicate pressure to feel for tell-tale bumps or notches that shouldn't be there. Sam hissed and moaned but shook his head.

"No. If they are, we can have someone look at them when we get outta this damn city." Sam breathed in relief as his hand was put back down.

Dean couldn't place why exactly those words pricked tears in his eyes, but they did and he blinked them back furiously. Maybe just knowing Sam planned on going back with him was enough. He hadn't really thought about whether his little brother would stay or leave again at this point, but hearing his hopes reassured lifted an anchor from his heart and let him really breathe again.

_What a fuckin' sap._

Dean pushed his knuckle across his eye and grabbed the rubbing alcohol from a bag, leaning the bottle against Sam's side as his brother eyed it wearily.

"Sorry Sammy, don't want these infected," Dean said in response to the look and retrieved a couple cotton balls, soaking them in the acidic liquid.

"So what've you been doin' the past two months?" Dean asked before he picked up Sam's arm and began cleaning out the rubbed raw slices on his wrists. The answering hiss from his brother was exactly what Dean had wanted to distract him from, but he gave him a moment to breathe through it anyway and waited.

"Uh," Sam's cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath, "Not a whole lot." He groaned, "You?"

"Not a whole lot." Dean mocked scoffing, "Yeah, alright." He said letting it drop and moved to the other wrist working quickly – the soft whimpering from his brother urging him on all the faster. He bandaged up the wounds and sat back grabbing one more fresh cotton ball and soaking it, grabbing Sam's chin gently but firm in his hand.

"And to think I was havin' a nice nap 'fore you came in." Sam said managing a small crooked grin that stopped Dean from descending toward the cut along Sam's temple. Dean gave a quick toothy smile in return,

"You know me Sammy," Dean quipped, "Never one to miss a party." Sam smiled again and Dean tilted the cut toward him and gripped him a little tighter, "Sorry," He whispered as he cleaned out the gash and picked out a couple pebbles with tweezers whatching Sam's face crumpled up in a way Dean wouldn't miss if he never saw again.

"Anything else?" He asked after patching up his head and he looked over Sam's body, hoping maybe he'd come clean with a little innocent prompting.

"No." Sam answered quickly as he pulled the covers up, heat blooming a soft pink over his neck and cheeks, embarrassed under his brother's gaze.

Dean sighed and let it go looking deep into Sam's glassy eyes, "I have so many questions." He blurted out in a whisper after things had gone quiet a few minutes, not consciously realizing he'd said anything until Sam's brow rose in anticipation.

"Part of me wants to just _scream_ at you now that I know you're not gonna die…" Dean started after he realized he was supposed to continue, dropping his head to break away from Sam's stare, "But part of me's too relieved you're alive to do it." He huffed again in defeat, shaking his head, "Why'd you go Sam?"

_Why'd you run from _me_?_

It was Sam's turn to split his gaze from his brother's as Dean turned back toward him, eyes hiding their devastation, trying to convey an honest desire to understand.

"I-" For one split second Sam thought he might just spill every secret he ran away to protect, but thought wiser of it a moment later, "I'm really tired, it's hard to focus. Maybe we could talk about this in the morning?" Sam asked still unable to look Dean in the face.

The eldest brother was quiet for a minute, trying to understand that answer.

_What the hell is he hiding?_

"Yeah Sam, take somethin' for the pain first."

"It's not that bad."

Dean gave a humorless smile, "Yeah I'm sure." He twisted off the cap and shook two pills into his palm, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand. Dean helped Sam onto his elbow, reminded once again that he couldn't sit, and made sure he swallowed the pills.

"Sleep lil' brother." Dean whispered patting Sam's shoulder as he got up from the bed.

* * *

Sam drifted easily once the pain started ebbing, and sunk into the bed as if it were the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt. Considering where he'd been sleeping the past couple months, it was, and hours blew by, the sun rising and settling in the late afternoon.

He woke to a pitch black room though, sweating and panting as he wrestled with a nightmare of gags and ropes and crow bars. Sam tried to jolt up in the bed – wrench himself from the terror – only to find it was real. He was being pinned down by something strong and soft and completely terrifying, something locked over his arms.

"No, _no_. Get offa me." Sam begged, "Please don't do this, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll do whatever you want…just not this. I can't, not again." Sam whimpered, struggling as hard as he could. He kept his eyes tightly shut, gasping through the sharpened splinters in his side and the raw sting in his wrists, the dull throb in his hands and the insufferable ache in his ass as they all protested the jerky movements of his body.

"Stop, Sammy. _Stop_. Open your eyes, Sam. It's me. It's your brother. You're okay, _calm down_." Sam heard a voice over him, just barely breaking through to his conscious mind that was still making him believe it was happening all over again. He yanked open his eyes which were pouring down tears to that voice he'd only just began to process and gasped for breath through sobs he didn't realize were coming from him.

"C'mere Sam," Dean squeezed the salty tears from his eyes and tucked Sam's head against his chest trying to get the hitching cries to subside from his brother, knowing full well how bad it had to hurt. "Just breathe Sammy," He heard above him, whispered into his hair. Sam tried to comply, not able to take the searing agony that ripped through him every time his stomach muscles did even the faintest flutter let alone pulled a sob from him.

"That's it." Dean encouraged, "There you go brother. Your doin' good." Sam could hear the waver in his brother's praise, the fear, the anger, the _tears_. He was sure under different circumstances Dean would be crucifying them both for these seriously dramatic chick flick moments, but as it was, he could tell Dean was just _scared_.

After a few slow, focused breaths, Sam lifted his head and locked tired, red eyes with his brother's in silent apology.

"You okay?" Dean asked, voice breaking painfully, thick with lasting tears.

Sam nodded, Dean's arms still secured around him, a flutter of something hot and deep pooling in his belly.

"Sam, I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you." Dean began dropping his eyes from Sam's, "I know I haven't been able to give you everything you've wanted. Hell, I haven't been able to give you anything you've wanted, really. A life, or a home. A steady school. I should've been able to do that for you." Dean shook his head and sighed, mouth set in a tight line, "I'm supposed to take care of you. Not drive you away." He admitted with ever crushing defeat as he hung his head, turning his face from Sam, "For that I'm sorry, cause you should have that life. You deserve it." Dean nodded as droplet fell from his nose, "That home and a chance at wife and kids. Whatever you want. And from here on out-"

His brother's sentence was cut short when Sam's lips stole a life of their own, crushing down on Dean's with an intensity and passion he didn't know he possessed. Dean's mouth had been open but it snapped shut when Sam's came into contact and his lips closed around them, molding to fit _just_ right.

Sam's tongue traced the bottom line of his brother's mercilessly full, sinfully soft lip and to Sam's great surprise, Dean didn't shove him away. Whether it was the knowledge that he was hurt and pushing him wouldn't end well or that Dean actually _wanted_ this, Sam couldn't find it to care. He was taking advantage of the opportunity, positive nothing like it would ever come again.

Sam brought a hand up to Dean's cheek holding him close as he memorized the taste of his brother's lips, not pushing it to ask for entrance. Sam decided right then if his brother kicked him out, disowned him and never spoke to him again, getting to finally know the solely-Dean, sparked and unbelievable taste of his lips would almost be worth it.

Then, things shifted and Dean's mouth started working with Sam's, his lips parted without any prompting at all, _inviting_ Sam to explore. His brother's open mouth caught the pleasured moan that escaped from deep in Sam's throat as his hand tangled into the sensitive curls at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was quick and careless and so heated Sam thought his heart might jump right out of his throat and break them up, but soon it was over and Sam was pulling away, sucking in quick shallow breaths.

"I don't want any of that, Dean." Sam whispered into the empty stagnant air around them, "You've always been _all_ of that to me. My home, my school, my life." Sam pulled in a deep ragged breath, trying to keep his voice steady. Fighting to keep his nerve, "I left because I wanted _more _of you. I wanted this," He pressed a hand to Dean's chest never taking his eyes from him, "And I knew I could never have it."

_**Review my lovelies 3**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/U: This is took me forever to upload and for that I'm reeeally sorry! **__**If there are a ton of spelling mistakes or just shit writing in general don't crucify me cause my life has taken a turn of hectic chaos lately and I don't have a beta or a lot of spare time to reread my stuff enough times to make it… well readable? But I hope it's not too awful. I don't know, you let me know what you think though!**_

_**Again sorry it took so long, but thanks so much to those who're sticking with me! **_

_**Chap Warning: Angst and bad words, but always expect that from me. And wincest.:]**_

The silence that had blanketed them was so thick Sam swore he could feel it pushing the air out of the room, leaving a tangy bitterness in the back of his throat with each exhale.

"Dean?" He tried, barely able to hear his own voice, "Say something."

The only agonizingly loud sound in the room was their still-stunned, unsteady breaths puffing air into the void space between them and over the other's lips. Sam could still taste Dean on his, savoring the scent that passed over his tongue with every puff of air. Cool, musky, dank, specifically Dean.

If these were his last moments with his brother, Sam was memorizing every detail he possibly could.

"W-What-" Dean sputtered, voice gentler than Sam expected, before his heavy breaths cut him off. He was speechless, just staring into Sam's steady gaze – they couldn't look away from each other. Afraid the world might shatter around them if they _moved_ too quickly, so heavily aware of the frailty of this moment.

"You should relax," Dean finally spoke, his eyes moving to Sam's heaving chest as a hand very slowly lifted to brush under the bandages around his ribs. Sam shuddered and suppressed his wince, almost angry Dean had brought attention back to his injuries.

"I couldn't feel them." He sighed quietly, slowing his breath to humor his brother.

"Pain meds must be workin'." Dean said, still whispering. And still aware of the tangible tension grating away at them – of the static threatening to shock them to death if the wrong words were spoken, the wrong move made.

"Think I burned through 'em hours ago actually." Sam admitted trying to get back on track of the conversation. He knew his brother. If he didn't push this Dean would try to let it drop and then it would eat at them for days, maybe weeks, as they tiptoed around each other, slowly drifted apart and eventually separated again. It'd probably be worse than leaving him now.

"Sam." Dean said in warning, but it came out more of a begged '_drop this'_ as his voice dithered trying to put threat behind the words.

"Dean…" Sam started, "At least tell me if you hate me now. If you want me to leave again. Give me something." He quietly pleaded.

"Could never hate you Sammy. Should know that." Dean rasped as Sam watched the half of his brother's face that was illuminated by the street lamp outside, the only part he could clearly see. It tightened into a blank, controlled mask but Sam tried anyway to find some tell to help him understand the meaning behind those words. He was just about to open his mouth again when Dean took in a quick breath as if to speak.

"Sam," Dean started still rattled as he tried to make eye contact, failing for the most part, "Growing up the way we did, with _only_ each other to really lean on… I mean the most normal, well-adjusted people on the planet would have some issues later on." Dean shrugged and finally lifted his eyes to Sam's, hiding away whatever it was that lay just beneath the surface, "We can fix you. I can get you help, whatever you need to…" Dean lifted his shoulders again and let his sentence drift into silence, making it clear he didn't know what else to say.

Sam didn't think anyone would be able to tell by looking at him, but something had snapped and shattered deep when Dean uttered those first four words.

_We can fix you._

Looking into his brother's eyes though, Sam could see the subtle shift behind them told him he was wrong. His brother saw right through him, right to that broken piece inside.

Then suddenly, distinct and familiar heat stung in his eyes and tension bubbled in his throat as the need to get away, or at least look away, blazed up inside him. Dean never got a chance to see the tears before Sam hide them, shutting his eyes angrily and turning his face away.

"Yeah." Sam said breathlessly as he shifted slightly, trying to lay back down, "Sure. Help." He muttered not really understanding what he was saying as the four simple words kept screaming and thrashing in his head.

_We can _fix_ you._

Sam really should've been able to keep it together, at least until Dean wasn't mere inches away to study his every move, before he let the devastation ride over him. Because honestly, as far as reactions go, Dean was doing pretty well. Sam really couldn't argue. He had gone over every other reaction he could possibly think of and none of them had ever been pretty. Screaming, throwing things, throwing punches, throwing him out – every response he thought Dean could possibly have, Sam was sure he'd gone through.

But never in all his imagining had he seen his brother considering him as _broken_. Something that needed to be fixed. A wrong to be righted.

"Sam?" Dean whispered tentatively, slowly brushing a shaky hand over his hair. Sam cringed at the gesture, trying, without moving, to mentally shove Dean away from him. Apparently it worked because the older brother immediately retreated. "I love you Sammy." Sam heard Dean whisper brokenly over him. Through the stun, Sam felt a sudden fury boil up to accompany the sacred words he rarely ever got to hear. The words he'd longed for, for so long.

"Don't." Sam snapped back before he could stop himself.

"Sam?" Dean protested in confusion. And maybe a hint of annoyance.

"I just-" Sam sighed slowly now fully aware of the steady, throbbing ache of his broken ribs,

_Wanna be alone. Wanna disappear._

"Wanna sleep." Sam finished squeezing his eyes in response the sting of salty tears that once again, thankfully didn't spill over.

"Meds first?" Dean finally responded, a new distant chill to his voice. The walls were back up.

"No." Sam felt Dean stop moving off the bed, still refusing to open his eyes.

"There's no need to try and play tough."

If Sam was in any mood to receive help from his brother, he would've gladly taken the pills as he felt the pain thrumming through him gradually intensifying. But he wasn't, so he gave no answer to Dean and tried to keep his breaths even, feigning real exhaustion.

"_Sam_." Dean grumbled more insistent.

"Dean." Sam breathed, "Lemme sleep." He whispered, voice cracking hoarse and thick with unshed tears.

Sam had little faith in his ability to actually _get_ any sleep what with the growing pain and subtle-but-steadily increasing need for another shot of heroin, but he'd do just about anything right now to get Dean to stop talking to him.

"Alright Sammy." Dean responded a few beats too late while he simply stared at the dark silhouette that was his brother, the one who had just turned his world inside out and upside down without ever knowing it. "Sleep."

The problem was Dean didn't sleep at all. Not for a minute; he wanted Sam awake, talking him through the confusion and fear and million _other_ feelings coursing through him. The ones Sam seemed to have come to terms with long ago.

_How could he have felt like this all that time? When did it start? When did he first know? How did he hide it so long? Why didn't he tell me? Why'd he tell me now?_

A billion questions tangled up his mind as he lay there frozen, and all of them jockeyed for Dean's attention – trying to get answers he didn't have.

Because he had _felt_ something in that kiss; something had stirred in him. Woken up or come alive. Something changed and now, whatever it was, it had his mind in a haze so baffled and lost and _fucked_ he didn't know how to deal with it. Or if he could.

Dean spent hours trying to sift through his twisted, rambling thoughts while he lay awake, watching the continuous rise and fall of his brother's back. He didn't really register he'd been staring for god knows how long until his thoughts took a subtle turn and shift and he realized he was _studying_ his brother. And reveling in what he saw.

He started taking notice in the gentle curve of his brother's waist, the one that led up to his hip and down long, carved legs. He saw the way Sam's muscles shifted under the softly tanned and exposed skin of his upper back with every quiet breath.

Dean reached out to pull the covers up over him though; as much as he wanted to keep up the intense and debatably creepy watch of his brother's unfairly sculpted body, he wanted him warm and safe more. No matter what changes Dean felt their relationship may inevitably undergo in the future, he'd always be a big brother first. Sam's safety would come before everything just as it always had.

That didn't mean Dean couldn't let his fingers linger at the nape of Sam's neck after he'd pulled the blankets up. Because he couldn't help it. He also couldn't help the following trail of his fingertips down the hardened muscle to Sam's shoulder, basking in the heat that shot through him as he did so. The fire that settled still and heavy in his core. He couldn't help basking in the beauty of the valley at Sam's spine, surrounded by ripples of hard bronzed flesh.

"Fuck," Dean hissed into the darkness yanking his hand back, "What the hell am I doing?" He said nearly inaudibly, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind as he gently rolled off the bed and stood wondering what to do now. Where to go.

* * *

Sam listened to Dean trying to be quiet, thinking he was asleep, as padded through the room, grabbed his jacket and slipped out the motel door.

_Where's he going?_

Sam's skin was still on fire from his brother's brief and gentle touch just a few moments before. He didn't want him leaving now. Not after that. He was surprised he hadn't given himself away with the sheer force of his heart beat – he could've sworn it'd been shaking his whole body. To have his brother taken from him now, he wouldn't survive it, not if he didn't come back.

Sam tried to bring himself up onto his elbow, bending his ribs uncomfortably in the process, but eventually managing so he could peer out the window. He wanted to see what his brother was doing outside, but there was no one. What he could see of the lot was empty.

Besides the quiet ache of yet another dose of rejection, Sam felt the sudden panic at the realization the Dean wasn't armed. After what he'd just gone through, his mind was reeling with every horrific situation it could conjure, creating story after panicked story of his brother out there defenseless, alone and in the process of some brutal attack.

_It's Dean, Sam. Get a grip. If anyone can survive out there…in the middle of the damn night…without so much as a fucking pen to defend himself with…it's-_

Sam found he couldn't finish the thought without all his doubts tainting it, rendering it useless to comfort him. He hadn't realized how heavy his breath had become until the shock in his ribs had him collapsing back down onto the mattress, grunting as a whoosh of air escaped his lungs.

"F-Fuck." He moaned into the silence gripping his side, trying to ignore the throb in his ass as the jostling created a mass of unwanted friction. Sam realized then he was still naked from the bath, which he was now very thankful for being half unconscious through, as the sheets slid around against his bare skin.

_Ugh. Damnet._

He suddenly wished he was still severely concussed or delirious from blood loss because without the stupor as a distraction, having to lean on his brother – literally – for everything, could get uncomfortable. He couldn't dress on his own, bathe or shower, hardly stand for god's sake.

The whole situation was stressing him out; he'd just confessed his life-long, number one keep-in-the-vault secret to his brother and now he was gone, out there probably getting jumped by X as Sam spoke and he was helpless. He could really use another dose of heroin about now, that was for damn sure.

_No. Jesus what are you thinking? _

Sam's thought's demeaned.

_Get it out of your head, Sam. You just got Dean back, you're close enough to losing him as it is, you don't need to go making a show of your fuckin' pathetic addiction. _

He rambled really putting effort into thinking about something else, but now that the itch was back, he knew it wouldn't go away until he had the right tools to scratch with.

_Fuck._

Sam already had the uneasy bite nipping through his bones; he knew he had about another ten hours before withdrawal symptoms would peak…then what? Could he even survive them like this? There was no way he could get through it and manage to keep it secret, not when he couldn't walk on his own. He had nowhere to go and no way of getting there. No way to hide.

The jangling of keys outside the door pulled Sam from his head and his eyes shot up to catch his brother ducking as he walked in, shrugging out of his jacket. Sam heart stuttered with relief as Dean did a double take, catching the gleam of Sam's open eyes in the light that shone in through the still-open door. He pushed his foot back and closed it before clanking a heavy bottle onto the dresser nearest him.

"Heya Sammy, didn't mean to wake you." Dean's whiskey scratched voice vibrated through the dark room.

"You didn't." Sam answered trying to get back up onto his arm again; something about talking while laying down made him uneasy, "What time is it?"

"About eight." Dean said, and Sam's brow shot up. It was a lot later than he thought, "Good mornin'." He answered retrieving his bottle from the counter and holding it up in a mock cheer.

"I guess so," Sam said suggestively, gaze flickering to the jug pointedly, "Maybe a little early to be drinkin' don't you think?" He said rubbing his eyes from nonexistent sleep.

"Never Sammy." Dean said cheerfully as he took another swig. "How you feeling?" He asked more seriously after taking a clumsy seat in the nearest chair.

"Fantastic." Sam muttered dragging his gaze away to look down at his hand. It was quickly losing circulation and falling asleep from the weight on his bent elbow.

"I'll bet. Want meds now? Been at least a couple hours since I asked, sure the last batch's wore off."

"Why not." Sam said, pretty much past his resistance toward help from his brother, especially since he'd felt Dean's timid caress across his back. He knew Dean didn't think he was broken, he _couldn't_ after that, and Sam knew that was enough for now.

He held out his hand as Dean dropped two pills into it and handed him water.

"These are gonna knock you out for a while. Sure you don't want anything before hand. Like food maybe? When's the last time you ate?"

"Um," Sam wasn't sure he remembered, "A while." He finally admitted setting the pills down on the night stand with the water.

"I'll order something in. Hope something's open. Anything sound good?"

"Pizza." God he hadn't pizza since he left, "Pepperoni." Dean cracked a smile at the way his brother's eyes lit up with the words alone. But it vanished as soon as he realized _why_ exactly Sam would be so excited. After Dean had finished his order on the phone, thankful the first try had worked, he turned to Sam, a grave expression in place of the smile his brother had last seen.

"Sam?" He started, voice gruff, "Can we talk about what happened?" Sam froze; it was hard to notice with his former position being just as still, but his eyes gave it away. You could practically see the darkening clouds roll in behind them, shade them with pain and guilt and…fear.

"What about it?" Sam asked, trying for casual.

"Well, what happened for starters?"

"I was jumped." Sam shrugged and winced faintly as the movement pulled his ribs.

"Come on Sam. You're really not gonna give me anything?" Dean persisted, "Two months, man." He continued when Sam still didn't answer, "Two months you were gone, what were you doing all that time?"

_Gettin' high. Trying to forget you._

"Nothing man. Nothing. Just hanging out." Sam shook his head once still looking at his hand, "Met some people, stayed with them for a while."

"Like at their house?"

"Sure."

"_Sam._" Dean nearly yelled, "Enough alright. God it's like pullin' teeth. Just give me a straight answer."

"Why do you wanna know so bad?"

"'Cause I'm your brother, and I wanna know what the hell you were doing while I was off goin' absolutely fuckin' insane trying to find you." Dean said with fury. Sam looked up, his hurt evident in wide eyes.

"I'm sorry Dean." He said, overwhelming sincerity dripping from every word. Dean seemed to thaw at that a little.

"Don't be sorry Sammy." He shook his head, "It's fine, forget it."

Sam sighed following Dean's lead and let it go.

A half hour later, with nothing but silence passing between them, and their food arrived. Dean carried in the box and slipped it onto the nightstand next to Sam, opening the lid. Sam's side was getting sore from laying on it for the past ten hours and he definitely didn't miss Dean watching him as he propped up onto his elbow again, refusing to sit up. Again. If he kept it up for too long Dean would suspect something was wrong.

And that, more than anything, couldn't happen. Sam already felt cheap and worthless enough. To see _pity_ in his brother's if he ever knew – disappointment – it would break him.

* * *

Dean's back was turned when he heard the strangled cry behind him and he whipped around to see his brother trying to prop himself up against the head board of the bed.

_What the hell is he thinking?_

"Sam, what're you doin' man?" Dean exclaimed, racing over to help him, unable to miss the tight grimace on Sam's face turn to nothing short of shock as he let his body weight down to sit.

"Uh," His voice wavered, "Just tryin' to get a slice of pizza." Sam said breathily trying to be nonchalant and force a shaky smile as a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Get back on your side you idiot." Dean half yelled half growled lifting his brother's upper weight and slowly twisting him till the pressure was off his back. Dean was too focused on resituating his brother to notice the new shock on Sam's face as he heard the secret knowledge behind his brother's words.

Sam's face crumpled once again as he was settled – too stunned to fight his brother moving him back around – and he wrenched his eyes shut, holding the pillow under his head with a grip as tight as death. This time though, none of it in response to bodily trauma; that was instantly being pushed back to make room for a new, less physical, more mortifying pain twisting deep in him.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked quietly as he lowered himself to the bed hesitantly, realizing he'd probably just given himself away. He ran his knuckles over Sam's cheek but he violently jerked away from the touch, eyes still screwed tightly shut, and Dean backed off.

"You know." Sam whispered simply a long moment later, "How do you know?" He asked, his voice reverberating a dead, hollowness that honestly scared his brother.

Dean took in a broken, unsteady breath remembering the scene that'd been seared into his mind just a matter of hours ago, "I, uh, saw…" He paused, clearing his throat, "Some stuff. At the alley. Just put it together."

"What." Sam demanded barely managing an audible answer, face still twisted up as his eyes squeezed tighter, "What'd you see."

Dean felt his lip quiver and bit down on it before rubbing a palm roughly down his face, "Um," He started shakily, "Blood...on the back of your clothes. A gag. Rope." He tried to suck in a calming breath trying to continue when Sam didn't stop him, "A…uh…_fuck_." Dean didn't register he was crying until his vision suddenly cleared, a few droplets falling from each eye, tickling his cheeks and making it impossible to speak through the pressure crushing his throat.

But that was okay, because Dean didn't have to keep going. Sam's question was answered. He'd seen everything. All of it. And he'd known all along.

They both waited for the other to say something, but neither spoke. Dean just watched helplessly as water pooled in the groove of Sam's brow, tears leaking from the inside corner of his eye.

"Sam, do you know who did this to you?" Dean finally asked, swallowing the ball in his throat so his voice wobbled less – though it didn't really help.

Sam didn't move. He didn't even open his eyes, the puddle along his eye just grew until it spilled, racing down the line of his nose, but he didn't move. And made no gesture toward answering.

"Sam, it's okay." Dean soothed stroking a feather soft touch along Sam's rigid spine. His brother's eyes shot open, watery and wide and so very heartbreakingly innocent Dean thought his soul turned to dust at the sight.

"It's okay?" Sam whimpered rolling his head to look down at Dean, "Nothing's okay." He breathed and rolled back over.

Then, simultaneously, Sam's eyes widened as his brow crumpled and Dean put his hand down on the bed behind Sam, leaning over him. Then they both felt it. Wet, hot and red on Dean's palm when he brought it back up.

"Sam?" Dean asked in a higher, unusually trembling voice.

Sam didn't answer, but a red tinge crept up his neck reddening his cheeks. Out of anger or embarrassment or fear Dean didn't know. He didn't care it was enough of an answer. In a flurry Dean stood and ripped back the covers, revealing the sight he'd been fearing most: a puddle of blindingly red crimson was soaking into the sheets behind his brother.

"M'god." Dean breathed leaving Sam feeling more exposed than he ever had.

"_Dean_." Sam whined furiously fighting for the blankets the best he could without further cracking his ribs. "Please, Dean. Please leave me alone." Sam sniveled plopping down to the bed.

"You're bleeding!" Dean shouted as if Sam was not all there, and definitely not grasping the situation, "We're going to the hospital now." Dean said yanking a pair of sweats from his duffel as he pulled out his cell ready to call an ambulance.

"Jesus Dean, calm the fuck down." Sam said thankful for the belated offer of some decency as he pulled the comforter up again. "I'm okay. Put the damn phone down, nothing hurts alright?"

"You could have some sorta internal bleeding or some shit so just shut up. I don't wanna hear it. We're goin'." Dean snapped and had the number dialed into his phone when Sam's yell stopped him.

"Dean!" He whipped around to face his brother, "You don't understand. You don't-" Sam's voice diminished so quickly to an insecure quivering mess Dean had no choice but to listen to him. He shut the phone suppressing his scowl and gave Sam his full attention, ready to hear him out so they could get the damn show on the road and to the hospital.

Dean watched as calmly as he could, waiting, trying to not to scream for his brother to just spit it the fuck out before he bled to death. But he bit his tongue and watched as Sam's breathing labored, his eyes flickered down, and he started shaking. Dean couldn't wait anymore.

"Damnet Sam you're freakin' me the hell out," Dean said much gentler than Sam expected as he moved closer again, "Please, can we just go?"

"Heroin." Sam whispered over Dean's last words, not positive it was what he'd intended to say. He didn't know what he was trying to say.

Dean seemed to understand though; his whole body went impossibly stiff, "What?"

"I-I'm going through withdrawal." Sam finally admitted, knowing this day/night couldn't possibly get any worse and giving up any hope of redeeming it.

There went the third secret he'd planned on taking to the grave. "It's gonna get bad. Soon. I can already feel it, and-" Sam faltered finally steeling a glance up at his brother, but persisted, "and if I go, they'll know. And then they'll send me to some rehab and I can't do it Dean. I can't. Please," Sam met Dean's eyes more firmly this time, "Don't make me go."

Dean's heart broke just a little more, if that was even possible at this point, at Sam's second major intentional confession in so many days. And a tiny smidgen of Dean almost wanted to back hand his brother for doing this. He wanted to scream and tear the room apart and tell him to quit begging 'cause he sounded so fucking pathetic. But honestly that was only because those wide misty hazel eyes were working on him, and he knew the moment Sam opened his mouth he was fighting a losing battle.

"Sammy, how could you do this to yourself?" Dean sighed heavily and moved close enough to sit back on the edge of the bed, "When'd you star-" He cut himself short and shook his head closing his eyes, "First things first, I need to make sure you're not gonna bleed to death on me while we're talking about this."

Sam flushed again, his face hardening into what he tried to make an expressionless mask. He groaned quietly: there really couldn't be a more awkward or degrading thing to talk about with his brother. Or anyone really, "I think it stopped." He whispered, voice so small Dean felt the swelling tension in his throat again.

_No more god damn tears._

He snarled in his head before gathering himself again.

_Gotta be strong for Sammy._

God but he just didn't see a safe way out of this. Except of course a fucking hospital.

"Okay Sam." Dean said softly, "But...regardless, we need to clean it out man. And I know this is embarrassing and something you'd rather ignore than deal with, or at least take care of on your own, but I need to know you're not gonna get an infection if I just leave this." Dean said quietly, taking his opportunity to enforce his big brother antics and make damn sure he did everything he could to see Sam got through this in one piece, humiliating conversations or not. Especially now with withdrawal hanging over their heads; he really felt the pressure.

Sam turned beat red at his calm words and kept his eyes down as they filled once again. He didn't do humiliation well and _this_, this was about as embarrassing as it got for him. He felt debased and overly exposed and so, so ashamed. But he did his best to hide it all and simply nodded, "I can clean them." He whispered, throat bobbing uncontrollably around the ball chocking his voice.

Dean's heart throbbed looking at the expression on his little brother's face, "I'm sorry Sammy. I don't wanna put you through this, I'm just trying to look out for you." He whispered rubbing a hand down his arm and holding back salty tears of his own. Sam just nodded and turned away, things fell quiet for a moment.

"Wanna wash off?" Dean finally asked with new composure, hoping he wouldn't be putting Sam in an awkward position again. He just wanted him to be comfortable, physically and emotionally - but coinciding the two proved more difficult than he thought with Sam having to lean on him for literally everything.

Sam's stomach flipped as he considered that question. Because of course he wanted to get out of these sticky, cooling sheets: he was revolted laying in this puddle. But being naked in front of Dean made this whole decision a little more difficult. Especially with their most recent, highly awkward conversation and his newly spoken admission of love hanging around their heads. His 'uncomfortable' level was sky rocketing, but he knew in the end there was no way he was going to keep lying in this soiled bed and his choice was made for him. Sam grabbed the sweatpants off the top of the comforter and used them to cover himself up, finally pulling off the blankets as Dean bent to pick him up.

Fuck this was embarrassing. How his brother managed to fit him through that tiny bathroom doorway was still completely beyond Sam, but soon he was in and on his feat, leaning against Dean as he turned the water on, still holding the sweatpants to his groin.

"So Sam, we need to talk about the drug thing." Dean started quietly as the tub filled and he shut the water off. Sam quickly dropped the sweats and let Dean help him climb in, both trying not to notice the dried blood dribbled between his legs.

Sam was quiet and red again, the poor kid was the most uncomfortable and exposed he'd ever seen and Dean felt like hell for putting him through it.

"I'm sorry, man. I know you don't wanna talk about any of this. Rather deal with it alone, bury it. Trust me, you know _I_ know. But this is your life we're talking about. So I'm gonna apologize now for any time here on out that I seem pushy or nosy or so uncharacteristically like a chick you can't take it – like right now, maybe-" Dean gave a weak chuckle and instantly turned somber again, "but I _will_ do whatever it takes to get you through this. I'll be hoverin' over you every step of the way and there's nothin' you can say or do to change my mind. So don't try." Dean finished avoiding Sam's eyes.

The younger brother couldn't find and sufficient response to that speech, his heart felt so full it somehow twisted his tongue into knots and he forgot all the humiliation he'd felt earlier. His silence was okay though because soon Dean continued,

"So when you did you start?"

"About a week after I left."

_So basically he's been using this whole time._

Dean fought to keep his face a neutral cover.

"And I know you didn't just walk up to some stranger and ask for it, how'd you get started?" Dean asked as he grabbed the bar of soap on the ledge of the tub and spun it in his, lathering up. Sam watched intently, wondering what it was Dean planned on doing with those soapy hands and fought a sudden hard on as his brother moved around to the back of the tub. "Sam?" Dean questioned his silence as his hands came down yielding on Sam's back.

He cleared his throat and cleared his head, or at least tried, as he worked up the courage to answer his brother as honestly as possible. Sam did his best to explain, pushing on through Dean's outrage when he mentioned the first run in with X and continuing on about Collin and the cave, eventually getting to the second meeting with the gang. He felt better explaining that one because Collin and him had kicked their asses. But then he got into more drugs and finally the third and last experience with X, which were both more difficult to get through even while he spared the gory details and gave the G-version.

He did all he could to get through it all coherently, but it wasn't only Dean's muttered curses and death threats or his own haunting memories that made it hard to explain, the most difficult thing to concentrate through was the heat Dean's fingertips seemed to shoot through his whole body, settling low in his belly. He was fumbling over his words like an idiot.

"So then," Dean started as he moved around the tub to face Sam, never taking his hands from his brother's skin, "Where were these junkies at when you were attacked?" Dean snarled, "And on that note, how _did _those guys get the jump on you. From what you told me, you coulda handled them."

Sam paused, but he supposed…while he was spilling his guts, "We kinda went our separate ways." He sighed, "And I'd just taken a hit. Didn't hear them comin'. Knocked me out and drugged me before I even knew what'd happened." Sam gave a feeble and humorless chuckle, his eyes distant. He hadn't realized he'd spaced off into the past until Dean's hands stopped their slow and gentle glide across his skin. It instantly brought him back – the loss of comfort and stability – and he snapped up to his brother's eyes. He was closer than Sam had anticipated.

"We're gonna get you through this Sammy." He whispered, surprising Sam with his proximity and the gentleness of his words. He leaned his forehead again Sam's as they both shut their eyes simultaneously, relaxing into the moment.

But Dean was too close for Sam not to take advantage. And Dean knew how he felt; he wouldn't have allowed himself so near if he didn't expect something to happen. And of course it did.

Sam tilted his chin up ever so slightly; it didn't take much before his lips slipped over Dean's, just a hint of a touch, crackling with what felt like honest to god electric shocks of smoldering fire. There was no hesitant, questioning touch after that, Sam just attacked. And Dean didn't pull away or push him back; he met Sam with as much enthusiasm.

Sam wrapped a firm hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulled himself forward a few inches, plunging his tongue into Dean's mouth and tracing along a row of perfectly even teeth. The new, unfamiliar but entirely incredible contact sent sparks of pleasure straight down to his quickly hardening cock. Dean's open and greedy mouth caught the stuttered whimper from the back of Sam's throat and swallowed it down, closing in around his tongue. His own rubbed up and down the length of Sam's, ravenous and avid in its work. Dean basked in the sensations and tastes overflowing him with every touch.

"God, Sam. What are we doing?" Dean whispered into the parted lips before him. The literal answer was pretty simple, of course, but Sam understood. And honestly didn't have an answer.

So he shook his head and Dean might've interpreted it as 'don't start' or 'I don't know' but it didn't matter because Sam's lips were crushing his again and soon any reason or thought fled Dean's mind. Their tongues intertwined resuming their aggressive dance, both fighting for dominance and neither backing down.

Dean's hands finally started receiving orders to move once his brain went on auto pilot and stopped thinking about what was happening; he just _felt_. And all he knew was it felt _right_ trailing his fingers down Sam's torso, tweaking his nipples and breaking away to watch the reaction. Half lidded eyes stared back at him, alternating widening and squinting as Dean worked his fingers twisting and pulling, coming apart at the sounds Sam rewarded him with.

"Dean," He breathed, the familiar grimace Dean had been seeing the past couple days firmly in place. But this time for a completely different, more encouraged reason as Dean continued working his hardened nubs, slanting his mouth over Sam's to absorb the gasps and moans.

Dean backed up abruptly; swollen, reddened lips parted as he panted into the space between them, staring intently in Sam's eyes, "Am I hurting you?" He asked, big brother mode taking over for a few fleeting seconds.

"No Dean," Sam heaved a breath shaking his head, "Can't feel any of it." He said gesturing vaguely to the injuries, "Don't stop." He said into Dean's mouth closing his teeth around his bottom lip in a gentle but aggressive tug. It was too luscious, plump and shining, to sit there ignored. Sam sucked it into his mouth as Dean pushed into the kiss, neither set of hands ever stopping their eager exploration of the other's body. Dean shifted on his knees against the tile floor, attempting to ease the pressure explosively building in his jeans but only succeeding in hardening his dick further as the friction rubbed against him. His back ached leaning over the tub at the angle he was but he could have cared less as he teasingly stroked his hand down Sam's chest, hesitantly stopping once he reached his waist. A silent question.

Dean pulled back, intense and ragged breath the only sound in the miniature room as he stared deep into the hazel glow of Sam's eyes. Sam looked back, nothing but awe in the gaze Dean was met with. The heated stare didn't break even as Dean lowered his hand, moving through the warm water to brush over Sam's thick swollen cock. The answering gasp and grunting exhale was Dean's answer and permission was granted. Or maybe begged for.

Dean wrapped long, strong fingers around Sam's member, shocking him as his back arched, thrusting him up into Dean's hand.

"Careful Sammy," Dean whispered against Sam's cheek as his free hand stroked caringly over the broken ribs.

"Can't help it." Sam moaned as Dean gently started working his fist, "Mm," He grumbled from low in his throat, "You drive me crazy." He paused panting, "No idea how long…" Sam pulled in a shallow gasp when Dean twisted his hand over the rim of his head, "Wanted this." He finished weakly and nearly inaudibly, not positive he understood whatever he'd just said.

The feel, the sight, of Sam coming apart under his touch – having that control and effect on him – it was as empowering as it was addictive and Dean couldn't get enough. He worked faster, growing painfully harder at the feel of Sam's length, silky and taut, as it eagerly twitched in his rough hand.

Sam's moans came faster now growing louder as he let them go, falling into Dean's mouth as his tongue pushed in to venture over every plane. He intended to memorize it. To revel in it and soak in the uniquely-_Dean_ taste, savor it. There were no underlying tangs; the pizza was still in the room untouched, and though his stomach was rumbling, he was thankful for it. He could spend all day submerged in the flavors of just Dean.

"Dean." Sam sighed, quickly following up with a desperate and pleading whimper against the crook of his neck. He pulled Dean's t-shirt to the side and bit into the skin, sucking it into his mouth and leaving his mark. He had no right and he knew it, but in that moment he saw the gesture as a claim of territory – a claim of possession. _Dean was his_.

Sam absorbed the sounds escaping the depths of Dean's chest in response, rumbling out harsh grunts and groans as he rubbed his brother harder and faster still. Sam was particularly glad for the reaction as he felt the bow pulling tight in his belly as his stomach muscles fluttered and twitched.

The writhing he couldn't control probably would've hurt his abused ribs and ass if any part of his brain was left to register pain, but it seemed there wasn't. Suddenly the levy broke, the gates opened and the heat poured and flooded as his body pulled taut, tensing impossibly tighter. The boiling fire intensified raising him higher and higher before everything snapped, shattered and crumbled. White jets of come shot from him as he shuddered out moans and gasps, twitching and re-tensing his worn body as he worked through each wave of his orgasm.

"God Sam," Dean breathed watching random, perfectly defined muscles jerk and tremble. He slowed down his strokes as Sam came to a finish relaxing and melting into the cool back of the tub, "So beautiful." He whispered before he could register the words and stop himself.

Sam's heavy lidded eyes and blissed out, slack expression snap alert once his barely functioning brain processed what he'd heard. So unlike Dean. A small smile stole his face and he brought a dripping hand up and around the back of Dean's neck pulling him to his lips.

The kiss was gentle, no eager rush tingeing the serenity of it.

"I love you." Sam said, just a whisper of a breath as his eyes closed. He barely heard the words himself but waited to see if Dean had caught them, taking in only silence as a response.

Sam sighed, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for his brother to leave again, as his eyes fluttered opened. But Dean was staring right back, entirely calm and making no move to run.

Sam couldn't help the second little smile that crept over his features as Dean leaned down, descending toward him one last time.

His lips melted into Sam's for a simple, dry kiss that lasted lifetimes for each. Dean's hand ran up the length of Sam's arm to curl in his hair, pressing him harder towards him to feel every groove and silky valley of his lips.

The kiss wasn't heated just like the last one, but the unadulterated passion, the _love_ behind it was so clear and tangible it left them both entirely overwhelmed - just drained and dizzy and deliriously blissed out.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Lil shorter. Sorry for that but you know life, always in the way takin up my time. Just unacceptable. Anyway hope you guys don't find too many mistakes or shitty writing cause, well I've never been good at editing. Hope It's readable though**_

_**Not much for a Chapter Warning but language and angst. Which is always around with me!**_

Sam stayed in Dean's solid embrace as long as he could, disregarding the fact that the water he was still submerged in was cooling, intermixed with different body fluids he'd rather not think about and that the itch for more heroin was becoming increasingly more insistent. Instead he focused on the feel of the individual muscles in the arms holding him close, the little puffs of hot air against his neck, the hand that stroked the back of his head, all of which were very effective distractions.

Soon though, Dean loosened his hold and backed away, slowly moving his hands from Sam and down to the hem of his shirt. He didn't have time to mourn the loss the heat of his brother's arms before Dean was pulling his shirt up and off methodically, tossing it to the ground. Sam watched mesmerized by the stretch and pull the valleys and curves of Dean's torso made as he moved. Dean reached a hand into the water and pulled up on the drain, letting it swirl down and out.

Then he stood, never taking his eyes from Sam's and unbuttoned his jeans, shucking them off and stepping out of their crumpled form on the floor. Sam could see Dean's nervousness in the minor shake of his hands and slight twitch of muscle in his jaw, but it only served to make Sam want him more. He watched intently, his stomach flipping and churning with anticipation.

And then the sudden and familiar itch won out over the pleasure, if only just for a minute. It distracted him, crawling uncomfortably up his skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake, rolling a wave of nausea through his chest and covering him in a cold sweat. And he cursed himself up and down for it, for taking something away from this.

But a moment later his demeaning thoughts of heroin came to an end as Dean hooked his thumbs under the waist line of his black, form fitting boxers and shoved them down stepping out of those too. Then Sam was simply awestruck, too stunned to remember what he'd been angry about. He was practically drooling at the sight of Dean's long, thick and achingly hard cock staring him in the face, smearing a sheen of glistening precome across his perfectly firmed stomach.

Sam wanted to say something, to voice his appreciation – or worship maybe, he couldn't think of the right word – but he was struck speechless and could only watch helplessly as Dean stepped over the ledge of the tub and in to join him. The look in Dean's eye as he stooped and took Sam's hands only worked harder to keep him rapt and silent and Dean gently helped his brother out of the water to stand, holding most of his weight for him.

"You okay?" Dean rasped and Sam's heart flipped and stammered at the mere sound alone.

"Never better." Sam replied smiling all dimples to the man in front of him, the same coarse undertone coloring his voice.

Dean gave him a lopsided smile and turned Sam around gently, holding his back to his chest in a protective stance as he half spun to twist the knob behind him and turn the shower on. The water was freezing at first as it pelted down onto his bare back, but he'd expected it and Sam was sheltered so he was content for now to wait for it to warm. Just focusing on the heat radiating from the body before him was enough to keep the chattering from his teeth.

Sam's head fell back onto Dean's shoulder, his bruised hands rising to rest over Dean's forearms covering his chest as he finally relaxed into the moment and focused solely on his brother, attempting to keep the rest at bay for as long as he could.

Eventually the water warmed and Dean loosened his hold on Sam allowing some heat to flow down over his shoulders, creating a little puddle between them, caught between Dean's chest and Sam's back.

Sam pressed back into the hard length running up along his ass cheek, careful not to put any pressure against his thoroughly abused hole but relishing in the feel as it slid wet slick and firm against his skin. Sam was hard again almost instantly, his veins flooding with desire and he wanted to make Dean feel as good as he'd made him just a few minutes earlier. He wanted to give his brother everything he'd given him and more. He wanted to give everything.

He spun in Dean's arms slowly, shuffling his feet against the slippery tub floor and looked Dean purposefully in the eye. Sam watched as his brother's pupils slowly dilate, swallowing the beautiful green moss of Dean's irises and he pressed forward into his body loving the feel of muscle flush against taut muscle.

"Wanna make you feel…" Sam began against Dean's lips, not really intending to end his sentence there when a wave of nausea hit him like a freight train, cutting him off to catch his breath and stumble back a step, hunching over.

"Sam?" Dean questioned immediate and audible panic ringing in his tone. "What is it?"

"Um…I…"

_Fuck._

There was no time to even try to finish his explanation before he was yanking back the shower curtain, clinging to it like a life line as he tried to climb out and soon he dropped painfully hard onto his knees in front of the toilet.

Sam in all his glory, attempted to empty his empty stomach as he wretched painfully over the toilet, his blue and black hands trying to grip the cold and disgusting porcelain bowl. Dean had enough decency to grab a couple towels on his frenzied race out of the shower before he knelt down beside his brother draping one over his trembling shoulders.

"S-Sorry." Sam grunted moving one hand to his ribs. "Fuck." He spit into the bowl and flailed a hand up uselessly to try and flush the toilet.

"Shh Sam, got nothin' to be sorry for." Dean brought a hand to Sam's towel sheathed back as he flushed for him and rubbed slow circles, trying to ease some tension he felt in the muscles underneath, "Just breathe, okay." Dean calmed waiting a couple minutes while Sam cautiously pulled air into his lungs and finally pushed away from the bowl wiping a hand across his mouth.

"How're the ribs?" Dean asked as he stood beside his brother and bent to slowly help Sam to his feet.

"Great." Sam huffed gently as his hands caught the towel from falling off his back and tried to secure it around his waist.

"I'm sure." He shook his head, "Let's get you back to bed." Dean suggested moving to Sam's side as he wrapped a hand low around his waist, getting ready to help him walk if he could. Sam nodded before shuffling forward, suppressing cringes as the movements created friction in the one place he really didn't want to feel right now.

"Okay, easy man." Dean said close to Sam's ear as he eased him down toward the bed, trying to keep him off his back side. Sam just groaned in response, reminded that his brother _knew _as he rolled down onto his side bring an arm up under the pillow he rest his head on.

"Ah, hang on." Dean said, carefully pulling Sam's arm back out, "Let's re-bandage these first." He explained glancing down at the damp and bloodied wraps around his wrists and ribs. Dean was wary as he pulled the bandages off, wincing when he got down to the last layer and peeled away the fabric stuck to the healing wounds. Sam didn't make any noise, just clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth as Dean began cleaning and rewrapping his wrists.

"So, what was that in there?" Dean asked a few silent minutes later jutting his chin out toward the bathroom as Sam opened his eyes, "Withdrawal stuff huh." He finished choosing not to make his statement into a question, he was pretty sure he knew.

Sam just nodded and sniffled as his nose was starting to stuff and run.

_And it's all downhill from here._

Sam thought grimly as he felt what used to be that uncomfortable itch turn into something more aggressive and uncomfortable. Something painful. Funny how quickly things had transitioned. Sam was beyond pissed this shit had taken something important, a pivotal moment, from him and Dean. He'd waited so long.

But withdrawal, or maybe karma as Sam saw it, waited for no one and his joints were beginning to stiffen, his stomach was not only churning with nausea but cramping into tight knots, doing nothing to take from the pain in his splintered ribs.

"This is gonna suck." Dean quipped with a slight smirk trying to lift a little stress from the air. But grew somber when Sam didn't respond, "You're gonna be alright Sammy, nothin's gonna happen to you while I'm around, hear me?"

"Yeah. Hear you." Sam muttered feeling utterly ashamed and self-conscious as he knew things were only going to get worse and much uglier from here on out.

It'd been three or four hours since Sam's grandeur shower incident and as promised, things had only gone downhill.

"Dean," Sam sniffed running a busted hand under his nose, "I can't…can't lay down anymore. Ah," He groaned painfully, his back vibrating against Dean's chest as he lay curled protectively around his brother, "Everything hurts. Can't stay still." He whispered brokenly, tearing holes through Dean's heart. There was little he could do besides trying to make Sam as comfortable as he could. And he'd need to know what Sam was going through before he could even really do that.

"Sorry brother." He whispered back propping himself up onto his elbow as a chill and shudder wracked through Sam's body. "You wanna get up and walk around or something?" He asked hopefully, watching helplessly as beads of cold sweat ran down Sam's forehead sticking his hair to his skin.

Sam shook his head no, which admittedly was a little confusing for Dean. "'Kay, what can I do then Sammy?" He asked, voice gravelly and low listening to Sam shiver and sniffle under him.

"More. I want more, can't do this." Sam replied keeping his voice quiet and under his breath – whether that was because he couldn't produce anything more or because he was embarrassed begging for another hit, Dean didn't know but it tore him up inside all the same.

"Sam, no." Dean said trying to keep his voice firm. He rolled off the end of the bed and walked around to kneel in front of him. "You can do this. You're strong Sam, I know you. I _know_ you can get through this."

"So cold." Sam whispered unsteadily a moment later tugging the blankets tighter around him, foregoing arguing against his brother's encouragement.

Dean pressed a hand against Sam's forehead feeling the same intense heat he'd felt against his own body when he'd been pressed up against him. "You've got a fever buddy, I know you feel cold but we really gotta cool you down."

Sam didn't respond, just kept his eyes shut breathing heavily through his mouth as his nose was completely plugged now and shivered uncontrollably.

Dean grabbed a wet wash cloth and brought it to his brother, pressing it gently across his forehead and peeling the covers back to run it over the sweat covered planes of his chest and stomach. Sam didn't fight him, but he certainly didn't like it either. The cold touches sent wracks of ridiculous pain through his oversensitive skin, which he knew was ironically from the fever.

Nonetheless though, the chills slowly dimmed over the next half hour as Dean coaxed the high fever from his body, leaving his temperature just a degree or two above normal once he'd finally thought Sam had had enough.

"Alright Sam, how you feel now?" He asked quietly wishing his brother's eyes would just open already and give him something to work with. Something to judge Sam's pain or comfort by.

"'M okay." He said dejectedly simply pulling the covers up over his shoulders. Dean sat on the edge of the bed for god knows how long just watching his brother slowly calm and drift into a light sleep, or what he hoped was a light sleep. His breathing had evened out a little and his hands relaxed around the cover's he'd been gripping earlier, so Dean figured it'd have to do.

Dean took the opportunity to do some research. Something he realized had once been part of their daily routine yet something he hadn't done in a very long time. Though this time wouldn't be for some hunt or mythical creature, no.

Dean woke the laptop up and took a ginger seat in the chair doing everything he could not to wake his brother. Bringing up the first generic search engine he found, Dean typed in heroin withdrawal symptoms and got to work.

He clicked on the first link that sounded promising and scrolled through page with shaky hands until he found what he was looking for. Sweating, malaise, anxiety, depression, akathisia, priapism, general feeling of heaviness, cramp-like pains in the limbs especially stomach, excessive yawning or sneezing, tears, rhinorrhea, insomnia, cold sweats, chills, severe muscle and bone aches; nausea and vomiting, cramps, fever…

_Jesus Christ._

The list just went on. As he read through he felt like it'd never end and half the words he didn't even know having to extend his search to look them up too. After about an hour, Dean had found more out about heroin than he ever thought he'd need to know.

Each of the symptoms were bad enough alone: irritating and inconvenient sure, but experiencing them all at once and adding intense cravings into the mix…Dean had never envied his brother less.

With an exasperated sigh Dean tried to keep himself collected and typed in a new search looking for ways to help someone through heroin withdrawal. He read through thread after thread of personal questions and the public's answers finding only one or two official sights that gave advice. All of them suggested puke buckets, hydration and _professionals_. No car rides, a few in one thread had detested the idea, saying opiate withdrawal was bad enough, no need to make it a torture fest in hell.

He was backed into a corner with little he could do unless he could steal heavy painkillers and risk getting caught or recognized by the police again. Leaving his brother alone… fuck no. The idea was immediately expelled.

_God Sammy I'm so sorry._

Dean thought, helplessly watching Sam tremble in his sleep, the sight unexpectedly hurling Dean back fourteen years, submerged in his memories. Sam had been four with a bad cold, looking so very much like he did now, huddled under the covers in some ratty motel. Their dad had been 'out of town' not surprisingly and Dean had been left to watch over his tiny and precious brother. Miniature hands had clutched the blankets pilled over him, wide and frightened hazel eyes staring up at him, looking for guidance. Help. He remembered so clearly the sound of Sammy's high little voice as it had squeaked out a quiet and desperate question.

"I dyin' Dea…?" He'd asked his pouting and trembling lips stretching into a heartbreaking frown-grimace and parting as he sobbed soundlessly. Dean had rushed to his side kneeling in front of the bed and took Sam's baby hands in his. "I 'ont wan die Dea…" Sam had choked out around hiccups and more quiet sobs, one little hand coming to wipe clumsily across his chubby cheeks.

"No Sammy. Not on my watch lil' bro." Dean had said helping Sam dry his cheeks as he smiled down at him.

Sam had just learned what death was, Dean recalled. He'd just begun grasping what it really meant because a few weeks earlier Dean unfortunately had been forced to explain. They'd come across a dead cat on the side of the road, half in a gutter and Sam had raced over to it, dropping to the ground heavily as little hands planted firm on the ground, curious eyes examining the situation.

"He sleepin' De-?" Sam had asked, his voice raised in confusion as he craned his neck to look up to his brother. "Don' look comfy." He muttered turning back around to continue his scrutinizing.

Dean had had to drag Sam from the scene once he finally, and as gently as any eight year old could manage, had explained to his brother the kitty wasn't waking up.

Dean hadn't realized how lost in his memories he'd been until the present Sam had snapped his eyes open and scrambled to sit up his face scrunching up as if he were going to sneeze. And he did. Six times in a row.

_God damnet it all to fuckin' hell._

Dean cursed furiously in his head. Sam had probably just cracked the rest of his ribs.

Dean jumped out of his seat and over to Sam's side, watching as tears leaked from his eyes and he fell back to the bed. Dean didn't miss his brother's hands both gripping his side of broken and bruised ribs. And he definitely didn't miss his brow furrowing in pain as a quiet and muffled sob escaped him.

Dean half excepted Sam to ask him if he was dying.

"Mother fucker." Sam muttered, "I can't do this Dean. I can't. Fuck. I'm gonna break 'em more." He mumbled sounding way too much like that lost, scared kid he'd been all those years ago, "H…hurts."

Dean's resolve faltered listening to Sam's frightened and broken plea; maybe cold turkey really wasn't a good idea. _Really_. Broken ribs and uncontrollably sneezing, vomiting, stomach cramps and god knows what else were not a good mix. If he did snap something else further it could puncture a lung or… jesus his heart or anything.

"Okay Sammy…I uh," Dean blew out a haggard breath rubbing a hand down his face, "I need…" He huffed again pinching the bridge of his nose, "You got the number of your…your dealer?" The words fought to stay in his mouth and never be heard aloud ever, but Dean forced them anyway and tried to keep his mind focused on the fact he was doing whatever he could to help his little brother. Who was in excruciating pain. Yeah that helped.

His words definitely got Sam's attention as his eyes shot wide open, still watery to stare at his brother incredulously.

"What? What for?" Sam whimpered still being obviously careful not to move his upper body.

"I think, I think we should probably…" _God these words_, Dean complained, "Maybe we should get you clean a little slower. Wean you off or somethin' instead of this cold turkey shit. It's obviously not gonna work with you all busted up."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked a little more focused this time, "You're joking right? I-" He stopped talking as a hand flew from his side to his mouth, "Oh fuck." He said behind his hand and Dean picked up on the hint right away flying across the room to grab the trash can and shoving it before his brother just as he was sick. Again.

Dean was pretty sure that solidified his argument.

Sam pushed the trash bin away from him once he was done and fell back to the bed immediately picking back up the conversation.

"Dean, no. You…" Sam huffed, "How did you turn around so fast?" He mumbled, "You're supposed to be strong for me." He whispered so much pain in his wide hazel eyes Dean couldn't take it, breaking the stare.

"Sam I'm trying to be. But I'm worried," He said still avoiding eye contact, "I'm worried you're too weak for this right now. You're body can't handle this much stress. And those ribs…I just don't want anything to happen to you. Not something y-" Dean pressed against his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Not something you can't come back from."

Things were silent for a long time, too long. Dean wasn't sure Sam was going to say anything in return so he opened his eyes regretting it right away. Sam looked…_wrecked_, depressed, contemplative maybe, and a subtle tremor rocked through him not at all helping the tiny four year old brother look Sam was sporting right now.

"I don't wanna be weak." He whispered miserably.

"You're not weak Sam. You're body's just not gonna take this well. I'm scared," He admitted. "I'm scared that I can't take you to a hospital if something goes wrong. I just, I wanna hit the road and get back to Bobby's or get you someone who knows what the fuck they're doing, but I… I don't know Sam. I don't know what to do." _To help you._

"I just…wanna be done with it." Sam said half-heartedly, fighting _so_ hard to keep from jumping back to his brother's suggestion of weaning him off, "I want more, _so much_. It's all I can think about. It scares me, depending on it. 'Specially like this. So I can't…I can't let it keep going. I just gotta get done with it. Wanna be clean." Sam puffed out a short sigh, his eyes closed with concentration, trying to keep his sentences coherent.

"Okay, so does that mean you want to stay here and ride this out?" Dean didn't know if he liked the sound of that idea, but then the upside to staying definitely had its perks too, once he took his mind off all the fear.

"I don't know where else we'd go. And I don't know how well I'd do in a car right now."

"Kay Sam. We can stay, and I won't get any more if you really think you can handle this."

Sam nodded a few seconds later; reluctantly Dean followed his lead.

"Alright." Dean said trying to be glad they got the decision out and done with, "Anything you need?"

"Mm." Sam agreed, "New body."He mumbled into the pillow incoherently. Dean crooked a half smile and brushed a strand of hair from Sam's eyes. He rolled his head following the touch and for a moment Dean felt things calming around them, Sam relaxing just a little. But then his hand slapped down onto the bed gripping the covers tight before he sneezed, again, feeling a sickening snap in his ribs.

_Fuck, Sammy._

Dean thought powerlessly, brushing hands down Sam's face and side trying to calm Sam with soft reassuring words. Relax, just breath, you're okay. Whatever he could think of.

But words weren't going to fix this. Not even close. And Dean didn't know how much more he could watch. Or how much more his brother could endure.

They were looking down a long fucking road. And Dean still couldn't shake the feeling that he was cornered and absolutely utterly helpless to do anything for Sammy, who was currently crumpled and shuddering under Dean's useless hands.

_**Button's right there! Review?**_


	10. Chapter 10

The sounds were the worst. Echoing through the room like a wailing child's screams would or the blaring music of a television jingle, just loud and grating and seemingly endless. Shattering any silence and shutting out all other sounds in the most infuriating way. Splitting a headache right through the center of his skull.

Sam didn't know how Dean was still sticking around after three days of this, listening to him moan and shudder and vomit and whimper like the pathetic fucking person he was proving to be. He also didn't know where he was finding the room in his brain to think about these things around the constant 'fucking make it stop' plea that seemed to be on loop in his head.

Of course, there was a light at the end of this tunnel and he never lost sight of that; it was the only thing keeping him going at this point: it was Dean. Because contrary to what Sam believed his brother should do, Dean hadn't left, and he made no move to now even as Sam shuddered and rocked and moaned. He was still here curled protectively around Sam's back, mumbling soothing nothings in his ear and constantly stroking calming fingers over his fiery skin.

"Sh, sh Sammy. Calm down you're okay. I'm right here." Dean said as he held a trash bin under Sam's head, moving his hand from stroking Sam's back to bracing over his shoulder and keeping him steady.

"See that. Why the fuck are you here?" Sam snapped struggling to lift himself back onto the bed.

Sam really wanted to be done with this, and he didn't mean to snap at Dean. Really. He wanted him here more than anything. But another part of him, the part that was currently winning over the other - and also so overridden with guilt and shame it wouldn't mind dying right about now - wanted to scare Dean off so he'd stop getting this fucking close up of Sam's darkest, and most humiliating, days.

"What?" Dean's face was completely bewildered, but not at all hurt. Sam would've laughed at that if he didn't think he'd puncture a lung in the process.

"I said: Why. Are. You still. Here?" Sam managed to ask between shuddering breaths, trying to calm down for his ribs sake.

"Yeah, heard you sasquatch, just had to double check cause that may have been the stupidest question you've ever asked." He paused wondering if Sam was really going to wait for an actual answer, and apparently he was. "Cause you're my brother you idiot and you're a fucking mess. Where the fuck else would I be?" Dean asked obviously angry now. Sam knew he'd have to keep egging his brother on if this was going to work – and even then it was a pretty slim chance he'd actually leave – but he had to try.

And he was just about to before he saw something changed subtly in Dean's expression, in his eyes. No one else would've noticed it, but Sam picked it up right away: and he knew right away he'd been caught because Sam could see that patronizing tone bubbling up in Dean waiting to feed him some condescending speech.

"Sam," He began in the exact tone he'd been expecting, the Dean gets when Sam's being an idiot, "It's not gonna work man so you better drop the act now before you really piss me off."

How fuckin' see threw am I?

Well, time to abort that plan.

Sam huffed stupidly, but the guilt and apology was in those damn puppy dog eyes: wide and scared and trying not to be sorry, staring up at Dean. He didn't say anything more, embarrassed and ashamed as he was and for more than one reason, but instead tried to relax back in his pillow and close out the rest of the world because fuck, he was really stuck here to make a pathetic fool out of himself in front of his brother. The one he just so happened to be in love with.

He might be sick. Again. And that really hadn't been any fun a few minutes ago he didn't want a repeat. Sam felt weak and belittled and even though his brother's presence was basically the life line pulling him through this mess, Dean was subject to see Sam slowly shrivel to a pile of useless nothing and neither wanted that.

But Sam once again had little time to dwell on any of that as his fever spiked again, his nose steadily began running uncontrollably, his muscles took up their defiant limbo dance twitching his battered body without his consent and his head throbbed in time with his backside and ribs all synchronized with the heavy beat of his heart; he really was a fuckin mess. And this was hell. Oh, and it'd only been about 36 hours ago that'd anything had started, there was still a long road he was looking down. Because now this was set on steadily tearing him apart.

"God, hurts Dean." Sam said putting a bandaged hand over his tightly wrapped ribs, both providing a striking contrast to the tan of his skin, "Just wanna…just wanna be fuckin' done." He faded off and tried to even out his breath, his body twitching to its own accord anyway.

The look of his brother was almost frightening, and Dean never thought he'd be able to say that about his brother. He'd really been abusing this drug – like never spent a second sober – for the two months if the withdrawal was any indication. Sam had lost weight not having eaten and kept down anything for three days now, the sunken shadows under his eyes were so severe it almost looked like he had two black eyes now. His shaking and writhing and moaning for help (something Sam just wouldn't do unless he thought it was life or death, which perhaps was the case in his fevered delirium) and god Dean could do nothing.

"Try to breathe Sammy, like dad taught us. Just slow. Focus, in and out." Dean rubbed a hand down Sam's bicep squeezing slightly for reassurance, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd held when Sam started to comply. "That's it Sam," Dean whispered pressing a chaste kiss to Sam's collarbone as he placed a hand high on his chest: his own subtle reassurance that his brother was still listening to him and a little provided encouragement for Sam.

The fissures in Dean's heart crackled a little further, sizzling like acid when Sam's eyes flickered open to meet his. All that reassurance and encouragement and what he thought may have been a step in the right direction vanished. Seemingly foolish now, looking at the emotions playing in those all too revealing, beautiful but almost haunted eyes.

There was pain, but of course he expected that, there was frustration, but he could deal with that too. What he couldn't though, was the undeniable self-loathing and hatred there. Hatred for himself. Sam was ashamed, all confidence gone, and he was humiliated. By everything, needing to be consoled, looked after – that's what the whole act earlier had been about. He saw himself as an inconvenience, a burden: pathetic and weak.

As if watching his brother in agony wasn't enough, he had to watch him hate himself for it too?

"C'mere Sam." Dean whispered as he laid down and pressed his body flush with Sam's, absorbing some of the feverish heat rolling off his skin in waves, "I love you Sammy." He barely whispered into the crook of Sam's neck, almost instantly feeling the faint wracks and shudders quiet a little. Dean took the opportunity to slide down Sam's almost still body, pressing gentle pecks into the valleys of smoldering skin and whispering hushed encouragements to the fluttering muscles under his lips.

"There you go Sammy," Dean breathed into the divot of Sam's chest before pressing his soft mouth to the flesh, "Just relax," He kept gliding down, "Keep breathin'," Another kiss. Letting them fall parted as they passed down his skin, catching and sliding across skin. Dean flicked his tongue out to dip into Sam's belly button, eliciting a soft moan before pressing another kiss, "Doing so good." He sighed into the now wet skin. Sam shivered, but for an entirely different reason than his unabashed fever. He lifted a shaky hand to Dean's head, tangling it in his hair.

"Love you too." He breathed unsteadily, pulling Dean's face up to meet his.

A silent, fragile moment settled in as they simply stared shamelessly, revealed everything to the other: behind their walls and their barricades and their secret hidden chambers – everything came out. They didn't need words to understand the conversation, because it was clear. There would no other from that moment on. There would be no waver in love; no shame in affection. This was it, a silent but steadfast commitment to the other: so small, so seemingly pointless to a third eye but so undeniably important they might has well have just signed their contract in blood. There was absolutely no choice to turn back now. Which worked just fine for them.

Dean quirked a one sided smile lifting the intensity of the moment, "How you feelin' Sam? The truth."

The walls lifted again, just because they'd silently decided whatever this thing was between them was real and irreversible, didn't mean they couldn't keep hiding things every once in a while, "Fine." He lied, "Just glad you're here." He tried, attempting to cover the lie with the honest sincerity in his last words, doubling as an apology for his earlier snap. "Couldn't do this if you weren't."

Dean sighed, "You think you could keep down a pill or two? It'll really help with the fever," He said picking up on Sam's white lie right away, but appreciating the apology as he brushed a hand down Sam's cheek. His sweat-slick cheek, he had to get this fever back down. It was a constant battle as he imagined it would be till whenever this ended.

Sam hesitated, momentarily upset at how easily Dean had seen through him, "I can try." He offered, dropping his fleeting anger a second later. Dean nodded and dropped his head back down to the trembling muscles of Sam's stomach, just barely brushing his lips against the sensitive skin. Sam's breath hitched quietly and he plopped his head down to the pillow threading his fingers through Dean's hair again.

Then he was gone, and Sam pulled his head back up, voicing a nearly silent whimper trying see where the extra body warmth had disappeared to. Dean was clad in only boxers, fucking beautiful as ever, rummaging around in his duffle on the desk. Sam's stomach actually had the incentive, to flip and flutter watching the way the sculpted muscles of his back moved and tensed as he continued his search.

"Ah there you are," He muttered to himself, unaware of the extra eyes studying him. Then he turned around and saw Sam's hands clutching his stomach, "Muscle cramps?" He asked as he took a gentle seat on the edge of the bed. Sam didn't catch on till he saw Dean observe the position of his hands and he quickly moved them, leaning back against the pillows propping him up.

"Fine," He answered on beat, "How do you even know about that anyway?"

"I was doin' some research a couple days ago." Dean shrugged. Sam's brow furrowed, why hadn't he noticed that?

"What for? What'd you find?"

"What for?" Dean scoffed, "Cause I needed to know what the hell was happening to you." He paused to shake his head, "And I found that heroin withdrawal is basically hell on earth unless you've got professionals who know what the fuck there doing to help." Dean rapidly went from concerned to frustrated to infuriated so fast Sam's head spun. But at who exactly he wasn't sure.

"Okay, okay Dean calm down. I'm alright. And the cramps aren't that bad. It just kinda feels like the flu." Sam tried to shrug as he sniffled, but failed as his ribs shifted painfully under the tape pretty much holding him together at this point.

"Yeah, I read that on my search too. Exact words from someone who went through it: 'it's like the flu, only ten times worse,' and that's without the added injuries. And the flu sucks ass, all on its own" Dean was still mad, but now it was obvious he was beating himself up about withholding Sam from real help.

Sam just let it drop, knowing arguing or denying anything would only make it worse, "Got that pill for me?"

Dean opened his hand and revealed two little Ibuprofen tablets, dropping them into his brother's palm. Sam never felt so intimidated by something so small in his life, but the thought of another session heaving his guts out was so repulsive, and not to mention scary as hell, that he wasn't sure he could take them.

But he glanced up into Dean's eyes, a silent and subtle plea for encouragement, and saw nothing but unmasked love, something he almost never got to see so openly. From anyone but especially Dean. Tough, cocky, mask-everything Dean. He could almost feel it pouring out of him though, settling an almost tangible blanket of calm over his aching body. And how could he refuse now, really? No matter what happened or would happen, Dean still loved him and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Sap.

So he tossed them back, chasing them down with a few sips of water and laid back into the pillows.

Dean quirked a smile and brushed a couple dark strands of Sam's hair out of his eyes, silently praying the meds would stick. He flipped on the TV, turned it down real quiet and lay down next to Sam pressing a hand into his chest as he took his protective stance behind him, reassured by the steady, though maybe a little fast, beat he felt there.

Every fifteen or so minutes Dean would subtly check Sam's temperature by brushing his hand down his cheek, noticing it wasn't going down.

What the hell's wrong? How am I supposed to help you if your body's gonna be so fuckin' stubborn?

He thought, directing his anger at himself and not the prone, still slightly trembling figure in front of him. Because how could he do that? He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at Sam, being as gentle as he could manage so as to not wake him if he'd fallen asleep.

But, no.

Sam's eyes were open when Dean finally peered over enough to see him, he had gone three shades paler though, a film of sweat covering his face and chest. God, he looked awful.

Dean sighed at a complete loss. Sam's legs started up the uncontrollable, twitchy kicks that'd originally started about two days ago and came back whenever his anxiety became to heightened. Dean tossed the thin sheet that had been covering Sam's bottom half off the bed, figuring it was doing no good anyway and slipped off the bed moving down next to Sam's face.

"Hey buddy, how do you feel?" Dean asked, feeling as though that question had become all too familiar on his tongue.

"Um," Sam's brow formed a small crease, "Not much better. It doesn't…really feel like the fever's g-gone down." He said tentatively, shaking and quiet, like he was afraid Dean would be angry at him for it.

"No man, it hasn't. Not yet. How's the stomach feel?" He questioned, not only talking about the muscle cramps but wondering if the meds would make a reappearance soon.

Sam just shook his head and pressed his lips tighter together as he went another shade paler, then a faint tint of green.

Ah shit.

Dean simultaneously grabbed Sam's forearm and trash bin, hoisting his brother upright as he put the garbage under him.

God damn Sammy. I'm so sorry.

He apologized profusely, grabbing a still damp washcloth from the nightstand and pushing it to the back of Sam's neck as he waited for the painful wretching to stop. The tears were back almost immediately, uncontrolled on Sam's end as just a knee jerk reaction to the pain, but for mere heart brake on Dean's. He was done watching Sam trying to fight this; he didn't know how much longer he could stomach it. He wanted more than anything to just switch places with him.

"Ungh," Sam groaned flopping back to the bed, breaking off into a couple harsh sobs, "Fuck my fuckin' life." Sam remained quiet a few seconds composing himself before he spoke again, still feeling his brother's presence in front of him, "Sorry. I hate making you watch this." He whispered before opening his eyes to see a rogue tear dripping down Dean's unshaven cheek.

Sam's face crinkled again. "Don't Dean. 'M okay. Please, don't." He continued whispered, lifting a shaking hand to swipe away the tear. Dean turned away quickly from Sam's touch, trying to hide his weakness and resituate the mask of impenetrable strength he'd mostly been able to keep in place through the past couple of days. He'd never felt so helpless, or so much like a woman in his life. Too many fuckin' chick flick moments getting to him.

Dean nodded, laughing humorlessly, "Yeah," He croaked, "Sorry." He apologized wiping away the tear himself, "I'm supposed to be strong for you, I know." He let out a slightly shuddering breath, "It's just hard…seein' you like this. When there's nothin' I can do." He shrugged still looking away as the smile he was trying to mask his despair under faded shakily.

Sam's heart was aching; he shook his head at how wrong his brother was, "I'd kiss your stupid ass right now if I hadn't just puked my guts out." He bantered, lightly hitting Dean on the shoulder. He turned to him confused.

"You're wrong. You're so wrong." He confessed more seriously, "You're already doing everything." He said softly, placing a wrapped hand on the side of his neck, moving his thumb as much as he could across Dean's pulse point, "Just stickin' around."

It was Dean's turn to shake his head slightly in disbelief or something like it, as he knelt in closer keeping his eyes firmly locked with Sam's until the last second when his lips touched the soft, slightly chapped skin he'd descended toward. Dean remained shy and slow in the kiss at first, just assuring Sam he wasn't going anywhere.

But quickly he lost himself in the slow tantalizing dance of lips and tongues and heat and he didn't care what Sam had just been doing. Dean could still taste the underlying flavor of pure Sam and that's all he needed. He slowly maneuvered himself up onto the bed, making sure not to jostle the abused body, and hovered over Sam never fully breaking from his lips.

Sam straightened one leg out under Dean so he was half way on his back still favoring his uninjured side as Dean settled in on top of him.

Yeah, Sam knew then he could survive the withdrawal and rape and whatever the fuck else life had ready to throw at him so long as Dean never took this away. Sam could live off this.

Dean was tentative with Sam's body, unsure how certain injuries were healing and not wanting to put too much pressure on his hips so he kept himself as light as possible as he brought a hand down to explore the half of Sam's torso that was unscathed. He lightly tweaked a nipple as his tongue delved into the hot mouth under him, exploring and pushing and sliding up against Sam's tongue effectively eliciting a quiet, verging-on-desperate moan from him.

Sam cursed that his hands were still too stiff and swollen to grasp anything with much pressure, and then cursed the fact that his past opportunity to use something besides his useless hands for Dean had been interrupted by the first churn and flip of his stomach that had thrown him into this mess. Now he could do very little but kiss Dean in return, especially in this position pinned under his much heavier, much stronger (at the moment at least) body above him.

He didn't mind too much that he wasn't able to reciprocate a lot of the work, but he did want to show his brother just how much he cared he was still here. How much he truly, undoubtedly loved him. Thanked him. Sure, he could tell him that all he wanted: with his eyes, with his words, but he wanted to show him.

His inward rant was shattered and forgotten when a skilled hand slipped under the hem of his basketball shorts and light fingers trailed over the muscles in the inner joint of his hip making his lower abs shift on their own, spreading smoldering heat through his belly. This time not at all unpleasantly.

"God Dean, ah," He groaned "You shouldn't be…" Sam huffed, "not possible to make me feel… so fuckin'… good right now." He concluded through his hazy thoughts, "Jus' shouldn't be possible." He wasn't sure if he was making sense, but he tried.

Dean chuckled as his hand shifted to the right brushing teasingly over Sam's now obviously erect shaft, wrapping firmly around the base and giving a light squeeze.

A very unintelligible, rather embarrassing guttural moan followed by a whimper Sam would not attest to later escaped him as he felt the pressure of hot fingers grip around his dick. How Dean had the ability to get through withdrawal to make him feel this, something good, was beyond Sam. But he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

Dean started pumping his fist with that little flick of his wrist over the head Sam learned he loved the last time they did this. Dean's free hand laid flat on the inside of Sam's thigh, spreading them apart as his tongue moved to taste the tanned expand of skin, taut over the muscles he found tensing under his hand. His nose drew a line down the sensitive skin, inhaling the heavy musk until he reached the silky curls nestled around the cock he was still working.

Sam writhed under his brother's touch, and then the hand stopped and fell away and god did Sam mourn the loss. His head snapped up, his hand's fisted in the sheets under him, "Wha…?" He complained deliriously.

Dean looked up at the beautiful sight before him, his brother's confused, heavy-lidded, upset gaze staring back at him. Dean wanted to laugh at that before he lowered his head down toward the still weeping cock, lips parting to slid and catch on the moist skin. Sam's breath caught and stuttered and the 'upset' faded right away. Dean never took his eyes away from Sam's.

His lips opened wider, his hand returned to the base of Sam's dick and he wrapped the heat of his mouth around him. Dean's hand came down on Sam's hips, not pushing them into the bed of course, but holding them still. He was in charge here. Sam feebly tried to buck against him, but Dean was firm and steady and set his own rhythm, driving Sam to insanity – complete disarrayed incoherent insanity. Dean swallowed around Sam pulling him deeper until he relaxed his throat, coaxed his gag reflex to stop protesting and took almost all of him down.

Sam let out a startled cry of bliss, pulling the sheets up in his white-knuckled fists pushing his head back into the pillow, savoring the liquid heat as Dean kept bobbing, swallowing, tonguing the slit and pushing up under the sensitive skin just under the head. God he knew what he was doing, how did he know what he was doing?

The thought derailed him from the moment as it sparked an image into his mind: Dean riding that faceless piece of shit in their motel room all those months ago, the proverbial last straw for Sam that had started this whole mess. A tidal wave of jealously crashed down on him and he looked down angry, ready to push Dean off and ask him just how the fuck he knew so well what he was doing – which honestly would've sounded like such a stupid idea had he not been so turned around and fucked from Dean – but he stopped.

Because the scene was too much.

Dean's green eyes were heavy, sparked and excited as they stared up at Sam, his tinted lips so plush and pulled taut around his cock, he was bobbing and then he swallowed as he pushed Sam deep into him again and oh god. Sam lost all fight, the jealousy receded and was quickly swept away, lost in the ocean of pure bliss his brother was currently, very determinedly drowning him in.

His moans were coming faster, getting higher pitched and more desperate as the heat in his body cut through him, setting the pit of his stomach on fire. He brought his knees up, resting one over Dean's shoulder as he fisted a hand in his too-short hair and kept trying to thrust up into the perfect heat engulfing him.

"Gah-" He nearly sobbed, pushing his hips up as far as he could manage, "Dean!" He screamed, in his croaking and gravelly, fucked out voice. His body jolted, tensed and then released in a shudder as he came fast and hard.

Dean pulled back leaving just the head surrounded as he felt the squirming body under him tense and still before juddering lose as Sam found his release, shooting it onto Dean's waiting tongue. He swallowed it down, vaguely remembering years ago (when he started experimenting with his own gender) promising himself this would be one thing he'd never touch.

He didn't think he could stomach swallowing someone else's seed, but here he was. And he found he didn't give it another thought; he was too busy relishing in the fact that his brother was a shot-to-hell mess, heaving in breath with an arm slung over his eyes, desperately trying to recover from the painfully strong orgasm he had just coaxed from him to dwell on his promise. Plus, he didn't think it counted in this territory, because it was Sam.

Watching his brother trying to pick up the pieces of himself and put them back together so he could function again, god it was great. He was feeling pretty good about himself, proud he'd finally found the solution to taking his brother's mind away from what his body was really going through right now.

Dean crawled up Sam, laying on his side next to him and propped up by his elbow.

"Heya Sammy." He croaked, "How you feel now?" Dean asked with a hint of smile in his voice, though he was halfway seriously looking for a real answer, concerned for him.

Sam nodded and a smile twitch across his lips, his arm still slung over his eyes as he sucked in as much oxygen as he could. "Much better…" he heaved exhaling a breath.

Dean smiled and ignored his own painfully hard member, knowing Sam would probably have a better chance sleeping now if he left him be. And he did, staying protectively alert and curled around him without letting his body heat contribute to the fever Sam was still fighting.

Finally Sam did sleep and Dean was immensely grateful for it, careful not to make more than a whisper of a sound for the next six full hours: the longest Sam had slept uninterrupted since the withdrawal started. But he woke a sweating, moaning mess, either resurfacing from a nightmare or in pain again. Dean wasn't sure yet.

"Fuck Sammy," he whispered walking across the expanse of the room to his brother's side and tapping him the rest of the way awake: so a nightmare "Hey Sam." He gripped his shoulder and tapped his face again, "Come on man, you're here with me. 'S Dean, it's just me. You're safe, open your eyes." They finally fluttered open.

"Hey sleepy head." He tried to smile despite the worried creases of fear etching his brother's skin. "You all good?" Dean asked, his voice a husky grumble.

Sam's face relaxed ever so slightly, he nodded, they both laid back down and over the next six days, worked through the pain and fear and pleasure together in very much the same fashion.

Dean called in for food, left the room only on the few off hours Sam managed to find sleep and they survived until the withdrawal waned and Sam could confidently say the worst was over and he was still in one piece. All because of Dean.

Sam started walking on his own, his ribs were finally resting and getting the chance to set and most of his plentiful bruises had faded to a soft yellow; overall he was feeling pretty good.

"So where to now lil' bro?" Dean asked as they packed their bags, an almost giddy grin playing at his lips. Sam was eager to get the hell out of that motel room, but Dean was just relieved Sam wasn't hunched over a trash can or toilet anymore.

"Actually I was thinking we'd stick around for another day," Sam said with a dark, mischievous smirk, keeping his eyes away from his brother as he folded a shirt and stuffed it in his bag, "Got some people I wanna say bye to first."


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/U: Been a while. Sorry. I'm kind of a phase person, jumping from one project to the next and putting all my attention into that specific thing until I get bored. And recently I've gotten pretty caught up in 'Only the Winchesters,' my other story, so that's the reason for delay. Do apologize! I'm not done with this one yet though, so if you're still following we've got some things I want to have happen before we're done. Updates maybe should be coming sooner.**_

_**Enough rambling. Love you all and I hope you enjoy.**_

_**Oh, and shout out to MrssTripTucker for the loyal reviews she's given to BOTH of my stories and the error she just pointed out**____** Thank you!**_

"Sam this is a bad idea." Dean said, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to reason with his brother.

"Dean, these guys are ruthless and they're crazy. They inflict pain for the mere enjoyment of hearing people's screams. And what they did," Sam gulped and looked down, "What they did to me?" He finished quietly keeping his gaze on the floor, "It wasn't the first time they'd done that sort of thing." He let a few silent moments pass before eventually lifting his eyes to Dean's, "And this?" He lifted his shirt and tugged on the waist of his pants to reveal the engraved 'X' that was now a scar, "From the first time I ran into them."

He let out a short sigh, "They've gotta be stopped okay? It's just not an option to leave them here when I know what they're probably doing out there _right_ now." Sam gestured to the window pointedly, his voice growing strained and louder until he dropped his arm, letting it slap back down against his thigh.

Dean kept his eyes steadily locked with Sam's, trying to cover the emotions he knew were flitting around in them.

"The idea scares me Sam." Dean admitted very quietly, as if the words were heard less clearly the weakness in them would go unnoticed. "Can't we just call the police?" He asked knowing full well how out of character that sounded coming from him, "I mean, you know what they look like, you know where they probably are, hell you know one of the guys' names. Why can't we just leave _humans_ to the authorities?"

"Because this is _personal_ Dean!" Sam shot back, yelling the words as he spun around to face his brother. He calmed down after a few breaths and tried again, "Because they took something from me that…"

"That what Sam?" Dean asked gently, knowing how sensitive the subject was for both of them.

"That was never meant for them." Sam finished taking a gentle seat on the edge of the bed to look between his knees at the carpet, "Somethin' meant for someone I love." He whispered as Dean sat next to him, close but not quite touching, "Something meant for you." He breathed feeling the traitorous tears strangle out his voice and taking a chance that his words wouldn't be the final straw to scare Dean off.

He waited through the silence, too afraid to look at his brother and gage a reaction as he wrung his hands, trying to keep the tears back.

"Sam." Dean huffed when he couldn't take the silence anymore, grabbing Sam's face in his hands in the same heartbeat and turning him. He pushed his lips to Sam's without thought, moving them against his for a long moment before pulling closer. One hand slid off Sam's cheek and trailed down his chest to rest against his thigh. Dean was never good with words, but he needed Sam to know how much he wanted him, needed him to know he wished that what'd been taken had been saved for him too.

And god if this kiss didn't translate that message he didn't think anything would. His whole body was alight with smoldering sparks and tangible excitement. His stomach flipped as his tongue breached the lips that parted under his, and he caught the low moan that grumbled out of Sam, vibrating the air between them. Dean dragged his tongue along the length of Sam's, loving that friction he could find no where else. The hand on Sam's thigh slowly pushed up, still gripped tight around the muscle, before he reached the top and stilled. Lazily, he rubbed his thumb along the zipper and pushed a little more pressure as Sam's dick rapidly hardened.

"God Dean." He breathed rolling up into the simple touch.

Dean groaned long and low at the breathy pants coming from Sam before forgetting the tease and palming his cock, pushing hard down between his legs. Sam let out a throaty groan and his hips became restless jumping into the friction, seeking out _more_.

Dean slid his hand down and his fingers disappeared under his crotch. He curled up the digits to add gentle pressure to his balls and moved further forward, rolling them slowly in his palm.

"Ahh," Sam sighed, face bunching up at the simultaneously too little-too much touches. He wanted more, but it was so much, and he was lost on processing much of anything anymore.

"More Dean." He whispered, deciding he needed it as one hand gripped Dean's shoulder painfully tighter, quickly undoing his pants with the other. Dean kept rubbing teasingly slow strokes across his cock, pushing and squeezing but never fully gripping him like he knew Sam wanted.

"Want all of you." Sam breathed and then grunted as Dean's hand dove under his boxers and wrapped around him low and tight, he dragged up twisting his friction along the rim of the head. Sam let out a strangled growl and Dean crawled over him to straddle his lap never stopping his perfect pumping rhythm.

Dean's thumb dipped into the precome leaking from the head and he pulled it down to slick the shaft, letting it act as lube. His mouth never stopped moving against Sam's, only ever breaking for small gasps of air panted into each other's mouths. Then he returned to the lips he fucking _craved_ and tongue fucked into Sam's open mouth, mimicking the same beat his hand was following, growing so painfully hard in his own jeans he thought he might pop his button off.

Sam pulled back to moan long and loud as Dean dragged a bunt nail up the length of the pulsing vein underside his cock. Dean moved his mouth to Sam's neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth to nip at it gently and then harder before soothing the pain with his tongue. Sam was arching and writhing and falling to shattered pieces under his touch, which in turn was driving Dean absolutely beyond the point of turned on. But then Sam said something quietly as he gasped in deep lung fulls of air above him.

"Fuck me." He hissed breathlessly, "It was always yours, only for you." He promised.

Sam arched his back, pushing his hips back up into the touch again, but instead of the ravenous ripping-off-clothes response he wanted, Dean stopped and backed up. He was flushed, cheeks tinged red and lips kiss-swollen, his expression didn't match the features.

"What?" Sam asked softly, confused in his lust-high and terrified of the answer as he tried to slow his breathing. Dean looked blank, maybe a little worried or apologetic. Sam wasn't sure, he actually couldn't tell. Which didn't happen often.

"I can't." Dean stood and shook his hand, "Sam it's only been a little over a week since…" The image of a blood-coated pavement and an utterly broken Sam rushed through his head like a hurricane, quickly pushing out the arousal he'd felt just moments before. "You still need to heal." He said, voice quivering against his will.

Sam looked down as heat flooded his face.

Things were incredibly, awkwardly silent for almost a minute while Dean leaned up against the dresser and Sam stared at his hands, curled together in front of his knees.

Eventually Sam spoke, "Yeah of course." He said near a whisper as he stood and tugged his shirt down to hide his unbuttoned pants, heading to the bathroom.

He shut the door behind him quietly and leaned against it as he did up his jeans, letting his head fall back against the thin wood.

"God damnet." He whispered bringing his head back down to his chest. He couldn't help the embarrassment or rejection he still felt coursing through him, even if it was unreasonable.

Because Dean was right. He did still need time to heal; he was lucky nothing had gotten infected over the week – because it hadn't been an unlikely possibility at all. Of course, he hadn't been a complete idiot and did his best to clean out the tears, escaping to the bathroom with rubbing alcohol a few times over the week.

And hell, if that pain had told him anything then he shouldn't have even been _thinking _of doing anything for a while. He'd ripped through a towel twice, just biting down on it so he wouldn't scream – he didn't ever want Dean to know what'd he'd been doing. But remembering that pain, he knew he wouldn't be able to try anything now, only a matter of days later. _Obviously_.

So why did he still feel rejected?

He sighed and shook his head, knew he was being ridiculous, and pushed up off the door to yank it open. But Dean was poised with his hand up to knock and his forehead resting against the wood when it opened, and right away he was falling forward, crashing into Sam.

"Whoa." Dean and Sam yelped in unison as Sam caught his brother from toppling over, almost knocking them both to the floor.

"What're you doin' Dean?" Sam asked startled as he righted them both and put a few inches between their bodies. He could feel all too well the heat radiating from his brother.

"I was _here_ to see if you were okay," Dean said moving his hand across his forehead, "but then you pretty much threw me to the floor."

Sam breathed a laugh, "Dude you were leaning on the door. I just opened it."

"Yeah, whatever." He shrugged off and started back out into the room, "So…_are_ you okay?" He asked awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he walked away from Sam, back turned to him.

"Yeah." He answered a little too quickly, looking down. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Dean shrugged again sitting back down on the bed, "Dunno. You tell me. You're the one who stormed outta here." He said looking intently at his brother, searching for an unspoken answer.

"I didn't storm anywhere Dean. I went to the bathroom."

"Whatever man, just…I know you. I know how your brain works and right now I'm pretty sure it's working overtime to come up with ways to spin my words into some kinda personal rejection or something."

And shit did Dean hit the nail on the head with that one. They were quiet for a few moments, just breathing as silent as possible, aware of the fragility of the moment.

"And you know it's not." He continued gently when Sam didn't say anything, "Sam man you know I want to. Fucked up as it is, I do. Maybe I have for a while and never had the guts to admit it or acknowledge it…whatever. I don't know. But I do and I was just looking out for you when-"

"Dean I know. It was a stupid, heat of the moment kinda thing. I'm not ready for it yet and neither are you. No-" He held up his hand when Dean opened his mouth to deny it, "don't say anything. Even if you think you are," He shook his head, "I know you too, and I can tell you aren't. And that's fine. Really, we shouldn't rush this. If we fuck it up there's no do over's and – I don't wanna lose you so, just, let's forget I ever said anything and head out. I wanna find X."

Dean looked like he still might be ready to set Sam straight about the whole whether he was ready or not, but a few seconds passed and he let it drop.

"You're really dead set on this?" Dean asked referring to the revenge quest. But his words sounded a lot more like a statement he was trying to come to terms with than it did a question for Sam.

But Sam nodded anyway, jaw set and nostrils flaring with determined breaths. Dean knew that look; there was nothing to say to change his mind now.

"Okay well, let's go then."

"Wait, no you don't have to come Dean. I can handle them…and if something happens to you cause of my whole vendetta…you know I'd never forgive myself."

Dean laughed, but the sound was short and choppy and not at all humorous, "Sam, if you think there's a chance in hell you're going out there alone you're a lot stupider than I ever pegged ya."

Sam stared at Dean, brow crinkled, hands low on his hips, really wishing he could just chain him to a toilet right about now.

But, if Sam was being completely honest with himself this was less about his concern for Dean than it was about him seeing, up close and personal, the ugly life he'd lived for months. Because he knew Dean could handle himself and between the two of them these guys stood no chance, but he didn't want to give his brother any more reasons to look at him with pity or disappointment.

The thoughts were almost enough to make Sam call the whole thing off, but then images of _that _night started flooding his head, as if his mind knew he needed a reminder before he walked away and it was too late. So he looked up, met Dean's hard glare and nodded once before heading to the car, his bag in tow. "Let's go then." He repeated Dean's earlier words before whipping open the door and stepping outside.

Dean hotwired a truck out in the parking lot while Sam kept watch. It was done quickly though and without a hitch; no one seemed to watch or lock their cars around here, there didn't seem to be much point. After that they were on the road, and it only took a matter of minutes to return to the part of town Sam had last seen X; Dean and him both remembered it well.

They parked the truck in a discrete corner of an alley and made note of where they left it, knowing they wouldn't want to walk out of here after this was done, before setting out.

"So what? We're just gonna walk around until we find them? What if they're not out tonight?" Dean asked trying once again to discourage Sam from this vengeance mission.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly not bothering to look back at Dean as they walked through the intertwining allies and streets, "We stay until we find them. They'll be here." He reassured as they kept walking.

They searched for a good twenty minutes before they really got anywhere. Sam was asking random people lining the walls of back allies, questioning them if they'd seen the gang recently. It made Dean nauseously sick to see all those people, _too young_ people, working corners to keep off the streets or feed themselves or buy drugs, whatever their reasons. It was horrible. But Sam and he kept going until finally someone seemed to have some information.

"You're Sam right?" The girl asked pointing to him with a curious expression, which gave some life to her drugged-up-stupor.

"Uh, yeah." Sam answered surprised, "How'd you-"

"You were with Collin and his boys for a while weren't you?" She asked not letting him get out his question, "Oh-ho have there been some rumors 'bout you." She sang not letting him get out an answer, "But I know Anna." She answered his previous unfinished question, "And you know Neon." She said pointing at him again, "Who's working a few streets down tonight…also who I'm positive knows where they are tonight." She smiled lazily.

Sam's brow shot up, along with Dean's who looked inquiringly over at his brother. Sam muttered a quiet thanks after getting the name of the street and leaving again. They didn't see another person until they got to their destination, and neither of them mentioned anything about what they'd heard from the girl.

All thoughts of that were gone though once Sam got to the alley and spotting Neon up against a fence in the corner.

"Sweethearts, thought you were gonna keep me waiting all night." He said softly, seductively as he pushed up off the fence. But then he lifted his eyes and realized his company was not at all who he'd been expecting.

"What the – holy fuckin' shit. Sam?" Neon exclaimed quickly closing the distance between them, "Dude where the hell you been? You just took off one day and disappeared!" He said waving his hands around to accentuate his words. He spared a quick glance at Dean and then did a double take as he took him in, making his appreciation obvious as he looked him up and down. Sam felt a coil of jealous anger snake up around his spine as he watched, momentarily distracted from the task he'd set out here for.

"Dean, Neon. Neon, Dean." He quickly introduced nodding to both of them before putting a hand on Neon's bicep and stepping forward so that Dean fell back a few inches.

"Anyway I'm sorry about taking off. I just-" He sighed and dropped his hand, "Long story. It's not important, tonight I need to find X. I heard you might know where they are."

Neon raised a brow and laughed quietly, "Dude they're on their way." He slapped Sam's shoulder, "And they're _mine_ tonight – they're payin' well for it. And I need the cash." His expression changed slightly to show some remorse, "I know you don't like the guys after their little 'welcome to the neighborhood' routine," He winced remembering the patch up job they'd had to perform, "But I really need the money, and they _offered_ and they never pay _anyone_, you know them. Just take, take, take. So I had to grab the opportunity man. No disrespect, you know how the business is. Beggars can't be choosers." He rambled.

Sam wanted to stop the quiet seemingly endless words, but he was feeling too many things at once to process much else besides 'they were coming here.'

Dean drew out his gun from the back of his pants and flicked off the safety keeping his eyes in front to make sure nothing snuck up on them. Neon froze at the gun, then looked at Sam with wide eyes trying to figure out what was going on.

"Sam, get him out of here." Dean growled, still keeping his eyes peeled in front of him, scanning the silent darkness ahead.

"Wait, what?" Neon sputtered, "No, man I need that money, I got them first guys, this isn't fair-" He protested as Sam started shoving him back toward a couple blocks of chain link fence that guarded some abandoned property from a dumpster in the alley.

"Neon!" Sam interrupted, "Come on man, for what? Your next hit?" He nearly yelled as they stood before the stinking trash bin; he could tell by the silence he was right, "You're better than that." He shook his head, "Now get the hell out of here before I chuck you over this fence myself." He growled, "I'll come find you when we're don't alright. If you need money for food or some shit like that I can help you. But for now you gotta go!" He ordered and helped him up onto the dumpster before he hopped the ledge of the fence and disappeared into the dark, shaking his head in bewilderment at Sam before he did.

Sam turned back to the sounds of several footsteps pattering in front of them as they approached. He watched Dean tense at the sound and he came up to stand beside him, mentally checking over the weapons tucked away in his garments.

_Gun, knife, knife, ammo. _

He recited as he felt the cool metal of all of the objects pressed somewhere up against him.

Then four bodies rounded a corner, distracted, as they were all talking loudly to one another. Xavier froze in front of them all as he was the first to notice Sam standing there with a knife dangling in his right hand.

"What the bloody hell is this?" He asked to no one in particular and the rest of them stopped around him, eyes landing on Sam as well.

"Hey Xavier." He greeted politely, "Been a while."

He stumbled a step back as Sam took a step forward.

"You were dead." He stated in that familiar British accent Sam would take pleasure in never hearing again. "You-" He stopped and spun on the two members on his right, "You two said he was dead! Said there was no way he was surviving through the night, 'too cold, lost too much blood,' went on and on to make sure _I_ _knew _he was dead." He screamed, attention turned to the two idiots he was scolding.

But then a gunshot interrupted the yelling and Xavier spun as if on impact, then fell to the ground.

Dean was holding the gun up firmly in his right hand, smoke trickling out of the barrel lazily as he watched Xavier tumble over, eyes cold and emotionless.

"No talking." Dean reprimanded and shifted the gun to keep it aimed on Xavier as he slowly began to stand, clutching his arm.

He coughed and stumbled but his friends helped keep him upright and he smiled through his anguish as he got his footing, "Nice aim." He said sarcastically, "You _grazed_ my arm you idiot." His voice shook with obvious pain.

"Trust me, if I wanted you dead you wouldn't be standing." He said his voice dark and low and laced with a fury so intense _Sam_ almost took a step back.

"And you are?" Xavier asked, trying to keep his calm cocky manner, but his expression changed minutely and Sam could clearly see the fear.

"The reason you're gonna wish you'd never laid _eyes_ on Sam fucking dick head. Now I said, 'no talking'." Dean took a deep breath and lowered his gun, "Okay listen up. I want a fair fight. No weapons, no guns or knives – I want the privilege of beating your asses with my own two hands, but if any bull shits pulled I will not hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes." Sam looked at Dean, pulled his brow together, then shrugged and put the knife back up his sleeve. "Understand?" Dean asked, expecting no answer.

"You hurt my boy." He stated simply, "And nobody fucks with Sam." Dean said as he put his gun back under his belt and advanced.

And for the third time, hopefully the last, Sam fought these guys. Never before had he felt so invigorated in the midst of violence as he landed his first right hook in Xavier's unsuspecting jaw and yanked his knee up into his groin. He spun and threw his foot into one of the guys' ribs letting the momentum enhance the impact. The man was on the ground gasping for air in the same second. He kicked him in the back of the head four times with everything he had, and though he was probably out by the second hit, Sam was so blinded by rage he didn't care.

He turned back around to Xavier still on the ground, clutching his arm and groin concurrently as he rocked back and forth. Sam kicked him in the gut a few times before kneeling beside him to speak so he could hear.

"You know what you're problem is X?" He began quietly as the world around him slowly went to a standstill, and he faced the man that'd upturned his life in a matter of days, "You think you're above everyone. Think you can have whatever you want, fuck with whoever you want and get away with it cause you live above the law or some shit." Xavier was groaning, obviously not as well adjusted to handling pain, "Well you don't, you stupid fucker. You thought you won huh? Thought you got rid of me?" He laughed once, hard and sharp, "Wrong." He roared and stood spitting in his face after he kicked him hard in the ribs. He dropped back down onto the balls of his feet.

Sam didn't notice Dean had handled the last two men a while ago and was now watching his enraged one-sided conversation silently from the shadows.

"You stupid fucker, thought you could kill me. You have no idea who I am." He rumbled, "No idea what I could do to you: especially now, helpless, defenseless, so fucking pathetic layin' here at my feet. But I'm not gonna. I'm not gonna torture you like you did me." Sam shook his head, "I'm not gonna make sure you stay conscious while I rip you apart from the inside out, while I force a crowbar into you." Sam had tears in his eyes now, his jaw tense and twitching, gaze stiff and callous, "Would never do that. Cause I'm not like you, you ass hole. I'll make sure you're _out_ before I see to it that you can never hurt anyone again. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. Not for a little while at least." He whispered before standing and kicking him in the head hard enough to knock him unconscious the first try. But he gave another ruthless kick that landed against his skull with a sickening dull thud before whipping out his gun and unloading a bullet into his right knee cap.

"Nobody fucks with me and _walks_ to tell the tale." Sam snarled nearly inaudibly through his tears as he stood over the limp body, watching the blood pool from the wound and gather around him.

The sound was echoing in his ears, so loud – louder than any other gunshot he'd heard before – but then everything was quiet. Everything except Sam's harsh, heavy breath and the quiet sniffle as he ran the back of his hand under his nose. He didn't consciously realize he'd been crying until he looked up and met Dean's wide eyes.

_**A/U: Sorry it's a little short! And excuse any errors, I know I missed a few in there somewhere**___

_**Review my sweets if the mood strikes.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**I really have not edited this at all, but we'll see how it goes. Sorry for the delay, been working on OTW, but I've made myself a promise, I'm not moving forward with it until this one's done. I've neglected it for too long so I'm sorry for any of you who maybe reads both stories if that upsets ya, but well, life's tough, there's not too much of this one left anyway and I want it done!**_

_**Xx**_

Sam didn't know how long the two of them stood there, staring at one another, blank masks in place to hide the rushing undercurrents of confusion and hatred and _fear _they could both sense there, but he guessed it was a while.

"Come on Sammy," Dean finally spoke, severing the seemingly unbreakable exchange of silence, "We need to get out of here." He declared as his eyes darted around the scene surrounding them, blood still pooled around Xavier, the other three men still lay sprawled about, probably pretty severely injured and unconscious, and darkness still engulfed the whole scene. Dean didn't take the time or effort to check. He didn't care.

Sam's currently immovable stance seemed to shatter as soon as the eye contact had been broken. He heaved in air as if he'd just broken the surface and now, everything came crashing into him at once. It was as if the heavy stare they'd shared for however long had been keeping him on his feet, keeping him grounded and now his muscles gave with the ended silence.

"Sammy?" Dean called as he watched his brother take a dive head first toward the pavement, lurching forward in the same second to grab him and help him to the ground slowly.

Sam was feeling too many things at once, thinking too many things, he couldn't process anything, his head felt like it was going to explode. The same thoughts and images circled endlessly in his head. What these men had done to him…he felt so dirty, useless, tainted; what he had done to them…he felt even worse; what Dean had seen…_god_ why had they come here.

"Hey Sammy, it's okay man. We're okay, alright? You hearin' me Sam?" Dean asked raising his voice in attempt to get through to his distraught brother, watching his eyes restlessly moving around the gore surrounding them. "You're safe Sammy, they can't hurt you anymore. Just look at me brother, come on." He pleaded tapping against Sam's cheek.

Sam had wanted revenge, sure, _of course_, and he'd wanted to make sure that these people could never hurt anyone again, but this…this wasn't him. He hated these men, hated them for the cruelty and torture they'd shown him, but even more for bringing out this animalistic side of him, greedy to inflict the same pain that had been forced on him. He scared himself.

"Sammy, we gotta go." Dean tried one last time, wondering how much longer they could stay before some came running from the gun shot.

Sam snapped back to himself.

"Yeah, let's go." He said schooling over his features and using Dean, who was a little shell shocked from the sudden recovery of his brother, to help him stand and then stretching a hand out to help his brother in turn.

"You okay?" He asked Sam incredulously as he gained his footing and took a close look at Sam's face, making sure he was completely _there _with him now.

"I'm good Dean. I…" He shook his head softly before turning and starting out of the alley the way they'd come, "I'm sorry about that," He muttered, voice still rough from the tears as they walked briskly down the lanes. Dean shook his head at the apology, his brow knit in concern but Sam wouldn't look at him, kept his eyes everywhere but on his brother.

Dean opened his mouth to ask just what exact 'that' had been, but thought better of it a moment later, not wanting push Sam too soon after whatever had happened. So they walked in silence for a long time, finally almost to their car and far enough away from the scene of the crime that they could relax some.

But as soon as they rounded the last corner to the road their car was parked on they saw a silhouetted figure approaching them from the end of the alley. The person immediately picked up their pace as soon as Dean and Sam came into view, and Dean tensed ready to defend them or run if need be, before the figure called out.

"Sam?" The surprised, hopeful, somewhat apprehensive voice cried as it came barreling toward them.

Sam froze, "Collin?" He shouted back before hastening his own steps to meet the boy sooner. Finally he was close enough to see with the dim light provided by the flickering bulb above them and he came crashing into Sam's arms.

"Oh god." Collin breathed against Sam's neck as his arms tightened around his back, his hands clutching into the fabric as he tugged closer. Dean stiffened next to them, watching the intimate exchange with confusing and jealousy. The pure relief and joy flooding the kids face as his arms gripped around his brother put him on edge. "I thought you were dead man, God I heard about X. What…what they did…God what they _did_ to you." Collin breathed out in a rush as he backed away, shaking his head in horror and regret, his face so sincere Dean's jealously flared up a notch.

Sam looked very uncomfortable being confronted about what had happened, especially after what they had just done, and Dean's protective nature had him itching to drag him away from there and fly them both back to Bobby's to hide out for a few years or so, but then Collin spoke again before either of them could get out a word.

"They said they'd killed you." He whispered in despair before launching himself at Sam again, "But someone just told me you were here, that you'd come back and were looking for them, and I-I thought they were fuckin' with me, but, you're here." He said as if he was still trying to make himself believe the words, "I'm so glad you're okay." He finished shakily, tightening his hold again. Sam returned the hug the best he could before they broke apart once more, hopefully, for the last time. Collin seemed to finally notice then that they weren't alone.

Sam saw him eyeing Dean curiously and finally spoke, albeit uncomfortably, introducing them, "Uh Collin, this is Dean."

Collin nodded once before doing a double take and then whipping his gaze toward Sam, brows raising high, as if he recognized the name, maybe Sam had told Collin about him.

"Wait _Dean_?" Collin asked, "As in the Dean you…" The sentence went unfinished as both boys seemed to reach highly awkward territory. Dean was completely confused, but watched with intent as they each fumbled in the silence.

"Yeah," Sam responded shortly, cheeks flaming red as he answered. That really peeked Dean's curiosity.

"The Dean you what?" Dean asked, tired of being left out of the cryptic conversation. Sam turned his head toward him and opened his mouth to answer but Collin asked another question, interrupting, and shocking, both of them.

"So are you two together then?" Collin inquired, his voice hardening ever so slightly, as if he were hiding jealousy or anger, trying hard to be unaffected. Sam and Dean both were stunned still, neither expecting the question and both rapidly sinking into a load of panicked thoughts and questions.

"Wait, together?" Dean asked, directing the question to Sam, "What'd you tell him?"

"Nothing Dean." Sam said shaking his head in the overload of too many questions at once, "Yeah we're together Collin." Sam answered quickly, ready to put the matter to rest, hoping Dean caught on and kept his mouth shut about being related, "He's the one who came and got me. After…" Sam explained, tilting his head to imply the 'after' he was talking about.

Collin nodded, managing a small smile as he glanced toward Dean, returning his gaze to Sam quickly. He sighed heavily, his eyes indicating he was searching for words again, "I can't help but think, if I had just come and gotten you…after you left…just found you and brought you home, that none of that would've ever happened." He shrugged staring at the ground where his foot kicked at a pebble, "I'm really sorry Sam." He apologized wholeheartedly, lifting his eyes to Sam's again.

"Collin that's not you're fault. None of it is, don't blame yourself. I was an idiot, shoulda been paying more attention." He offered solemnly with a one-shoulder shrug. Collin nodded again, still looking at the ground.

The three of them were silent for a minute before Collin's head snapped up and he put on all the smile he could muster, "Well, I say enough of the heavy stuff. You're alive," He exclaimed raising his hands toward him enthusiastically, "I say we celebrate."

Collin reached under the hem of his sweatshirt and into his back pocket pulling out a terrifyingly familiar plastic ziplock that had Sam's eyes glued in a second. One fleeting look at the contents - the crushed powder, the burnt metal spoon, the zippo, the syringe, the rubber strap - and he was ready to jump off the wagon. That rush of anticipation hit him like a tsunami wave, crushing every ounce of will he'd had to stop in the first place and every rational thought or reason he'd had to do so. He was right back to wanting it more than anything all over again.

It took Dean all of one second to register what was in the bag and then one more to notice Sam's reaction, but the moment lasted a lifetime, dragging out in slow motion as he took it in and understood the need to _do_ something now. He snapped back to himself and time lunged forward into its familiar steady rhythm as he lunged in between Sam and Collin pushing his stunned brother back a few steps.

"Hey, Sam." Dean said with urgency as he gripped Sam's shoulders tightly, "Come on man, you still with me?" He asked for the second time that day, thinking as he said the words that it was two too many times. Sam didn't respond, was still looking over Dean's shoulder at the bag in Collin's hands. "Put that shit away dude." He barked over his shoulder before turning back to his distraught, hazed brother. Dean heard rustling behind him and figured Collin was pocketing the drugs, so he focused only on Sam, moving his hands up his shoulders and neck, stopping when he cupped Sam's jaw. Dean shook him gently, getting him to finally meet his eye, "You okay?" He asked insistently hunching over still to make sure he kept Sam's eye contact.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Sam replied hurriedly, brushing Dean off of him gently and shaking his head as he silently, subtly pulled himself back together.

"Um, last time I checked you were okay with this stuff man." Collin offered, obviously confused and still standing a few feet behind Dean, peering over at the exchange.

"He just got clean." Dean returned shortly, only half turning over his shoulder again to relay the irritated message, "No thanks to you." He muttered as he turned back around.

"Whoa, hey I told him to be careful when he started and I didn't know it was off-limits now," He said in defense as he lifted his hands in surrender, "I'm really sorry Sam." Collin said, pointedly directing his words only at Sam.

"No it's okay." Sam waved his hand dismissively, "How could you have known."

Dean could easily see the reunion with the drug Sam had fought so hard to get off of rattled his brother, down to the core. He was shaky; his movements jittery and jerky despite his best efforts to act nonchalant, and his eyes remained a little distant, almost reminiscent and longing. He wanted more, it was so clear it was painful to watch and it made Dean all the more furious with this Collin kid.

"We need to get going Sam." Dean said a moment later, finally stepping out from between Collin and his brother, more than ready to say goodbye to this place, and all the people in it, for good.

"Uh, yeah." Sam agreed, still out of it.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, right of course." Collin nodded as he too consented, albeit ungracefully, "So I guess that means you guys'll be hittin' the road then."

Dean looked at him confusedly, wondering how he knew they lived on the road, or that they lived together at all. As far as he knew Collin didn't know they were brothers.

"Sam said he was a drifter," Collin said noticing Dean's questioning gaze, "I just assumed…" He trailed off gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

Dean nodded, "Right. Well, uh, yeah we probably will." He told him glancing over at Sam to see if he'd say anything on the subject, but Sam's eyes were glued to Collin's pocket. And that was their cue.

"Look I'm really sorry if this," Collin began and indicated toward the pocket Sam was staring at, "messed you up man." He said finally getting Sam's eyes away from the masked drug and to his face, "It's awesome that you're clean, I didn't mean to do anything to jeopardize that." He shrugged apologetically.

"Really Collin, I'm okay." Sam replied as steadily as he could manage, "Anyway before we go I gotta ask how you guys are doin'. You got the money I left didn't you?" Dean perked up at the question, wondering where his brother had gotten any money to leave behind, and for a druggie who got him hooked on heroin no less.

Collin nodded, chagrined, "Yeah I did. You really shouldn't have done that Sam. I mean it was so much, I just - I didn't deserve it for one. You should've taken it and gotten yourself outta here as soon as you left. I mean, fuck dude it was so much. Why'd give it to me anyway?"

"Because you _did_ deserve it man, after everything you did for me? It was the least I could do." Sam reassured patting him on the shoulder as Dean fumed silently next to him. The only thing he could see that Collin had done for his brother was get him hooked on a potentially lethal and insanely addictive drug. Yeah, thanks a lot.

Collin shook his head again, "Well anyway, I couldn't bring myself to just take it and leave, like you wanted me to. Obviously," He shook his head sadly, looking around at their surroundings, "I just couldn't do that to everyone else. So I still have almost all of it. Spent some on food for the guys, a little for more blankets and shit. But to buy a place here in New York? Nothing's cheap you know and, man, its so much money I really just don't even wanna touch it. Afraid I'll blow it all, where'd you get that kinda cash anyway?"

Sam just shook his head allowing the subject to drop. He was disappointed that Collin hadn't been able to make good use of the money but felt helpless to do anything more, it wasn't much like he could take him with them, if he'd even go, which he wouldn't.

"Well man, it's been good seein' you again." He nodded, "I really hope you can get yourself outta here soon." Sam said, his voice dropping, relaying his seriousness and sadness. He pulled a pen out of his back pocket and grabbed Collin's hand, quickly scribbling his number on the taut skin of his wrist. "Please call me sometimes, let me know you and the guys are okay. And if there's ever anything you need just call man, whenever. Day or night and I'll come for whatever you guys need-"

"I'll miss you too Sam." Collin cut in, stopping Sam's urgent, rambling words. Neither boy noticed as Dean tensed after Collin spoke or clenched his fists watching Sam's eyes snap to Collin's, softening in chagrin and whole-hearted agreement.

Sam nodded, his eyes relaying sadness and appreciation and respect and love to his friend as he backed away. Dean was struck by the intensity he found in that stare, clueless until now how much this kid really meant to his brother, and how unbelievably _jealous_ he was because of it.

It took him a minute to follow after Sam's retreating form.

They slowly made their way to the car and climbed in, Dean taking a moment in the drivers seat to collect himself before starting the car and taking them away from the one place he really never wanted to see again.

They drove in silence for ten minutes before anyone said a word. Each boy was too wrapped up in his own head to realize the other was being too unusually quiet.

But Sam broke the spell first, oblivious to his brother's jealous rage happening in the seat over.

"That was crazy." He muttered unintelligibly, just needing to say something. Dean responded with a short grunt.

"I mean, seeing him again? Damn, brought back a lotta shit." He continued, his gaze distant and focused on the dash-board as he thought back to his time with Collin and the gang, still oblivious to Dean's anger.

"Yeah, I bet." Dean bit back, words clipped and sarcastic. That got Sam's attention.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, his brows drawing together.

"Nothing. Just, bet there's a lotta stuff to remember about your time on the streets. With _Collin_." He said, words just as clipped and sardonic as before. Sam looked legitimately hurt by his tone, hurt but even more confused. That really pissed Dean off.

"Okay Dean what the hell's going on? You're angry."

"And you're perceptive as ever kid." Dean drawled, swinging his head over to squint at Sam, sarcasm dripping from every pore. Condescension never went over well with Sam, Dean was well aware. And he also aware he was right on his way to picking a fight, but he really couldn't help himself. The druggy Collin kid pissed him the fuck off and Sam being oblivious as to why wasn't helping.

"Seriously Dean what the fucks up you're ass?"

"Nothing, Sam." Dean responded making a point to keep his sarcasm clear, "Just forget it. Collin's a great guy, I'm really glad I got to meet him." Dean said nodding slowly as they drove aimlessly through the quieter streets of New York, "Just like I'm really glad I got to watch you shoot out some guy's knee and ask countless drugged up hookers directions to a gang. _God,_ I'm just really fuckin' glad we came back here to dredge up all the great memories you obviously have of you're time getting' high on the streets, hangin' out with Collin. Really glad." Dean finished, spitting his words and slapping his hand against the steering wheel in emphasis to his heated words.

It was quiet for too long on Sam's side of the car but Dean didn't dare look over at his brother until he spoke.

"Pull over Dean." Came the quiet, strained words, almost echoing with heavy meaning in the dark confines of the car. Dean didn't hesitate like he normally would, he didn't want to keep driving and he didn't need to ask why, he just tugged on the steering wheel and skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the deserted back road.

All Dean could hear was Sam's shaky but slow and steady breathing in the car before finally the door swung open violently and slammed shut in the same moment as Sam yanked himself from the car. Dean didn't take more than a second to follow him.

"What brought all that up Dean? How could you say that shit to me, I mean what the fuck's you're problem? I didn't deserve that." Sam asked, voice surprisingly quiet and too intensely hurt for Dean's liking. But he couldn't care about that now, too much was boiling too closely to the surface. This place, seeing where Sam had been those months, and _who with_, it shook up his head; he felt unsettled and angry and he just needed to yell at someone. Unfortunately Sam was the one standing in front of him.

"Why the fuck did you bring us here Sam? To shoot some guy and visit you're little boyfriend? Well fuck that, I told you it was a bad idea in the first place." Dean yelled, his voice booming in the night air. Sam flinched back as if the words had been a physical blow to the face. He was blatantly trembling now, restraining anger and masking pain.

"Yeah, shoot some guy who beat the shit outta me twice Dean: who dislocated my shoulder and broke my ribs, who crushed my leg and my hands and smashed in my face and carved an 'X' into my hip. Who tied me up and _raped_ me Dean. Who left me to die." Sam spit, voice shaking and still eerily quiet.

In the days since Sam and Dean had both acknowledged it'd happened, neither had admitted it so blatantly before. The word _rape_ had never been spoken and the details certainly had never been given. Hearing it shot through Dean as tangibly as lightning.

"I should've shot all of them," Sam barreled on, ignorant to the repentance and regret already coloring his brother's features, "They traded me off like a piece of fuckin' meat. Took turns like I was a toy, like I was theirs to do whatever they wanted with. You-you can't understand…you could never understand how that feels. The true extent of what they did." He whispered desperately, obvious tears quaking in his eyes with every precarious breath.

"Sam I-"

"No man, I'm not done." Sam cut off vehemently as his tears slowly receded, "About Collin. I don't know why the fuck you'd jump to conclusions like that, 'cause in case you forgot I ran in the first place 'cause I was fuckin' in love with _you, _but none of what you think is true. The whole reason I ended up leaving him and the guys was cause he made a move on me, we made out for a minute and I ended up callin' out _your_ god damn name in the middle of it you jack ass. I have no feelings for him, never did." Sam explained voice growing louder with unrestrained anger until he was left panting slightly by the end.

"I-" Dean started, processing quickly and trying to figure out what exactly he could say that wouldn't make him sound like more of a dick, "I'm sorry Sam. I-I, ah it was just…the way he touched you man. Everything, how he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing on the damn planet. And the drugs, God I wanted to knock him out for that." Dean shook his head, not noticing the quick flush of Sam's cheeks at the recurring mention of the drugs, "But I am sorry. Seeing him set me off." He paused for a minute staring at the pavement,

"And what I said about Xavier, it was low Sammy. It was fucked up and inconsiderate and I _am_ a jackass. I have no idea what you went through or all of what they…" Dean's jaw clamped down tight as he hissed in a breath, "What they did to you. It-it really fuckin' hurts to think about, and its selfish as hell of me, but I guess its…easier not to see them as as bad of guys as I know they are, cause then I can…down play what they did to you. At least, in my own head I can. 'Cause it's easier to shy away from, to just leave the details blank and not think about what fuckin' bastards they are." Dean shook his head angrily, eyes staring a hole into the ground,

"But that's not fair," He relented a minute later, "if you have to deal with it I sure as hell 'm not turning my head the other way." Dean ensured, "Everything you did tonight was justified, with X and with Collin. And I'm sorry I was such a dick and blew up like a jealous freak. It – well – I can't promise it won't _ever_ happen again, because I'm finding I'm a little possessive, and possibly overprotective of you now, but I can promise I'll try to keep myself in check. 'Cause that shit, it was stupid and inexcusable." Dean shook his head, baffled by his own idiocy. "I really am sorry Sammy." He repeated, his words deep and rough and colored in his honesty.

"A little possessive?" Sam teased half-heartedly, "Possibly overprotective? Dude you're hopeless." He laughed lightly as acceptance of his apology. He pulled back and stumbled as Dean took a playful swing at his shoulder.

They quieted from laughing gradually and straightened up as Dean caught onto Sam's jacket sleeve, pulling him gently closer, "C'mere." He murmured.

Sam moved forward willingly and pressed flush up to Dean without hesitation, tilting his head towards his lips. They brushed timidly at first, light teasing strokes before Dean slammed forward abruptly, catching Sam's mouth with unbridled exhilaration.

Sam let out a quietly hissed gasp as his lips molded to Dean's, parting a few short minutes later as Dean's tongue sought entrance. Sam sucked him in, feeling the muscle wriggle and tense in his mouth as Dean moaned against his lips, the sound cutting off into a short grunt as Sam bit down and quickly released him, smirking smugly.

Dean couldn't reign in his need enough to care that Sam was baiting him before he crashed into Sam's mouth again, even hungrier as his hands slid down his torso and explored his muscled thighs, gripping and squeezing and inching closer and closer to Sam's groin every second.

In one quick move Dean had Sam shoved against the passenger door, shaking the whole car on impact and eliciting a half-pained half-pleasured growl from Sam. He rolled every plane of his body onto Sam's, taking his time, pressing into every muscle and dent and curve before languidly sneaking his thigh up between Sam's legs, teasingly slow before jerking up hard against his bulge and rubbing roughly.

"Oh fuck Dean." Sam sighed as Dean moved his mouth to Sam's neck, nipping cogently at the tender skin by his ear, licking away the quick flashes of pain. He left proud marks on Sam's neck before backing away and slamming down to his knees.

"Shit." Sam muttered, wondering briefly how they had gotten to this point so quickly when he completely had not seen coming. Soon though the thought was stolen away as Dean's hands tugged down his unzipped pants and the cold night air stung his skin. It only reach the very upper parts of his thighs and his cock as Dean kept his pants mostly on, but even then the shock was palpable and had Sam softening ever so slightly.

"Uh-uh." Dean chided, wrapping a warm hand around Sam's dick and stroking him back to hardness. "There'll be none of that," He whispered lowly, his voice gravely and too damn sexy to be fair as he gazed up at Sam with his lust-sparked eyes.

Sam didn't even have time to come up with some witty or sarcastic response before Dean had his warm lips wrapped around the tip of his dick, sucking vehemently and sliding his tongue around the ridge of his head – shooting sparks up and down his spine and churning heat in his belly.

"God damn Dea…ungh." He groan-sobbed loudly, tilting his head back as he fisted hands in Dean's hair, savoring every second of pleasure as heat descended further and further down his cock, "You feel so damn good Dean, so tight, so hot. _Fuck_." He hissed breathlessly tilting his head back down to watch as Dean's lips sunk down and pulled back, repeating the fluid motion over and over, making the most delicious sounds deep in his chest that reverberated up his dick, gripping Sam's thighs, brushing against the globes of his ass every once in a while. He was incredible and unrivaled and so damn beautiful it made Sam want to cry.

But he definitely didn't cry, he clutched Dean tighter and rocked his hips into all that heat, feeling the slow pressure build inside him. "Ah, Dean." He keened, out of his mind in all his bliss, "I want you inside me baby. I wanna _feel _you, slow and steady and gentle. Making love to me." He sighed out, "Just you. Always you," He babbled incoherently, still rocking but quicker now, closer.

"I can still feel _them_," He whispered breathlessly a second later, his voice taking on a new hard, desperate edge, "All the time, and I just want you." Sam admitted under his breath, still entirely too out of it to understand what he was saying, "Oh God. Shit." He murmured before he exploded into Dean's mouth, never even realizing Dean had stopped moving the moment Sam had spit the word _them_.

Sam sighed as Dean backed off already having swallowed and stood up with slow, calculated movements. His anger for the fucking bastards was back and raging, raw and as real as the moment he'd found Sam half dead in that alley.

Dean gave Sam a minute to gather himself and catch his breath, gently holding him up with the press of his body weight as he tucked him away and did up his jeans, his forehead resting against Sam's shoulder. When Sam's breathing slowed and his legs stopped shaking Dean felt the tension begin to rise, buzzing between them, he could sense as Sam began fully realizing what exactly he'd just admitted.

"I should've killed them." Dean whispered into Sam's shoulder, fury biting at every word.

"Dean don't." Sam stopped quietly, hands coming up to rest on Dean's back, "I'm sorry I said that. Right _then_ of all times." Sam shook his head embarrassedly, even though Dean couldn't see.

"Don't be. You should be able to talk to me about this stuff," Dean said lifting his head from Sam to look him in the eye, "You should've been able to tell me sooner."

"Its not easy to talk about Dean. So don't go turning this on yourself, like you're not approachable enough or some shit. Its just gonna take some time…before I'm ready to talk about…anything. You know? But that doesn't mean that you don't help, you're the only thing getting me through this so don't start you're whole self-deprecation thing. I know that's what you like to do when things get rough for us." Sam admonished with a slight smirk in place as his thumb caressed Dean's bottom lip.

Dean sighed, brow still knit up in worry and frustration, wanting to be able to do _more_. He wanted a quick fix, he wanted Sam's pain to end now, not with time or therapy or some other bullshit. He just wanted to make it better. And he couldn't. And it killed him.

"Okay Sam," Dean agreed despite his turmoil, masking everything as best he could, "But when you are ready to talk, you have to come to me. Please, Sammy. You of all people know burying shit never ends well, you see it first hand with me all the time." He laughed sardonically, Sam smiled back, "You're the one who pestered me to talk about dad until I about took you're head off until I finally did, if I have to I'll do the same. Because you know, you're sorry ass was actually right. Talkin' helped for whatever reason and after I could finally let go of that guilt and pain and try and move on."

Sam nodded in quick consent, knowing full well that Dean was right. He should talk, go through the night, say the words out loud and face it head on.

He just didn't know if he'd ever be ready for it. Thinking about that night made his skin crawl, made him want to climb out of his body and find someone else's to wear, someone's who wasn't trashed and used and scarred: it was the worst feeling in the world. How was he ever supposed to face that?

_**Review bitches.**_

_**Xx**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Read through it once, maybe it was enough to make it readable but its three am and I'm just tired and wanna post it So there ya go, hope it's ight. You could consider this the first half of this chapter if you want, but I won't make any official distinction. It is what it is and maybe a lil' short, and sad, but deal.**_

_**Love you.**_

_**Review!**_

It didn't take more than a minute for both boys to realize they were in no condition to fly after the events of the day, it was too late, they were too tired. Dean could barely hold himself together long enough to get them back to their old motel and return the stolen car. His anger, his fear, his worry, everything, all weighed him down so heavily, made his brain slow and foggy and muddled.

What he really needed was to lay with Sam and close his eyes and just recoup: feel the warm familiar body breathing next to him and draw strength from it, provide strength in return, lay still in the quiet. Because today had been hard, the past week had been harder and the past months unbearable; now that it was all coming to a standstill, he was slowly crashing. He just needed the relish the silence and let Sam be his first priority, not think about anything else. Not the streets, or the gang, or the shooting or Collin, just Sam and whatever his little brother needed to heal.

Dean swung the phone up to his ear as they began walking down the dark sidewalk, away from the old run down motel and the stolen car they did not want to be caught with.

"Who are you calling?" Sam asked softly as he stepped into pace next to his brother.

"Cab, there are none out this far." Dean replied just before tilting the phone back to speak into the line, requesting their ride and reciting the name of the bisecting street signs they stood. "Be here in ten." Dean said as he snapped the phone shut.

Sam rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his knuckles as he nodded, yawning widely a moment later before slouching against the street pole in an obvious display of his exhaustion.

"So are we just staying tonight and heading out to Bobby's tomorrow or what?" Sam asked after a few minutes of the hushed night passed between them.

Dean shrugged, the yellow street lamps surrounding them casting dramatic lights and shadows across him as he moved. "Whatever you're up for Sammy." He said easily, "I'm sure Bobby wants to see you, but if you'd rather stay for a few days and just relax, we can do whatever."

Sam nodded, a strange euphoric feeling coming over him at the idea of having this much freedom, being able to stay or go wherever he wanted, to take a break from hunting and simply live for a while. He could take Dean away and lock them both up in a motel for weeks, to just _be_. Alone and together. It was such a foreign concept he almost didn't believe the choice was real.

"Yeah, right." He said nodding, "Well, I was more than ready to get the hell out of here before, but as soon as we go back for the car we'll be with Bobby. Not that I don't miss him, but, you know…. We'd have to keep things between us quiet, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet." Sam shrugged looking at the pale sidewalk under his feet, "Kinda need you right now." He admitted quietly, "Would it be bad to stay for a little longer?" Sam asked timidly, finally chancing a look up at his brother.

Dean had a soft smirk playing at his lips, "I'm sure we can work somethin' out Sammy."

Sam smiled back, "Good."

The cab pulled up a minute later and drove Sam and Dean to a nicer part of the city, a cheap motel but nothing close to where they'd been before, and paid as the car parked and dropped them off. Dean and Sam ran in to grab a room, neither even a little phased as they requested one king – too exhausted to pay it any mind – and paid quickly before stumbling their way inside.

"God I feel like I'm crashing from twelve hundred energy drinks at once. How did I get so tired so fast?" Sam mumbled as he slammed down onto the bed, forgoing the trouble of removing any clothing.

"Long day, I'm wiped too." Dean returned as he unbuckled his belt and tugged off his jeans, going to Sam's side of the bed after and undoing the boots on his brother's feet, throwing them to the floor. Sam moaned in appreciation and peeked over his shoulder watching Dean carry out his familiar habits.

He moved up the bed once the shoes were off and pushed gently at Sam's hip, turning him onto his back, keeping his eyes trained on his brothers to make sure nothing he did spooked him. His hands tenderly pulled at the belt around Sam's waist and slipped it out of the loopholes, still keeping his gaze on Sam, gauging every reaction. But Sam seemed at ease.

Dean moved to the button and zipper next, dreaded and uncontrollable flashbacks stinging his eyes as the night he brought his broken brother back from the alley struck through him. He shook off the images quickly and pushed on, slowly pulling off the stiff denim and throwing the jeans over the back of a chair.

He moved up to the head of the bed once he was finished and leaned down to kiss Sam gently on the lips, the gentle pressure and slide of smooth skin sending a lazy fire soaring to settle in the pit of his stomach. Dean sighed softly against Sam's open mouth as he backed away, smirking at his half asleep, perfectly sated brother before he ran a hand through Sam's hair and moved away.

Next came laying down the salt lines and then finally he was in bed, crashing down onto the mattress, softly jostling Sam as he bounced to a comfortable position.

It was mere seconds before the boys were fast asleep, and a few hours before they were in similar worlds of dreams, each watching different scenes, experiencing different pains, reliving things they wanted to forget.

Sam woke first a few hours later from a familiar dream of needles and spoons and lighters and powder and pain and so much overwhelming pleasure he wanted to die as soon as consciousness yanked it all away from him.

"Fuck," He hissed falling back onto the bed, automatically reaching for the crook of his right arm; his clammy palm tracing the track marks in the thin skin and feeling the rapid pulse of his heart beat up into his hand. "Fuck, fuck." He repeated willing his heart to calm and his brain to forget and his body to stop throbbing in its ache for more.

"Sam?" Dean croaked rolling over to peek at Sam through the darkness of the room, "What's up bro?"

"Just a dream, go back to bed."

Dean scooted closer to Sam's overheated, still heaving body and wrapped an arm over his chest, his hand flat over the erratic pulse of his heart. "Wanna talk about it?" He whispered tucking his head on the pillow next to Sam's shoulder.

Sam really didn't wanna talk, but he was going a little insane at the moment as eager as he was for another hit, so he thought the chances of him doing something incredibly stupid if Dean left him to his own devices were pretty damn high.

"It was about the drugs." He rasped in reluctant admittance. Sam felt Dean nod against his shoulder, his hand beginning to stroke along his pec, fingers gently massaging over the muscle.

"Collin shook you up today." Dean stated softly, "You having cravings?"

Sam sighed squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he turned his head away from Dean, humiliation riding roughly over him.

"Sammy stop, you've got nothing to be ashamed of." Dean said propping himself up on his elbow to see his brother clearly as he shook off the sleep, "I'm so damn proud of you man." Dean ensured as he gently shook Sam with the hand still over his chest, "You got yourself clean when everything around you, _everything_ about the circumstances fought against your will. You're the strongest person I know. Just because you struggle with this every once in a while doesn't change that."

Sam looked reluctant to believe his brother, but relented anyway and sighed as he nodded, "Thanks Dean."

Dean gave him a tired, trademark smirk and shook his head, "You need anything?"

Sam hesitated before shrugging, too guilty to ask anything of Dean as it was still the middle of the night and they'd barely gotten a few hours before he'd woken them up. The day had been exhausting, he didn't want to keep him up now.

"Sammy you know you're an open book to me dude." Dean breathed a quiet laugh, "I'm up, probably not getting back to bed for a while, so you might as well just tell me what you wanna do till we're tired again." He reasoned, lightly nudging Sam in the shoulder with his elbow.

Sam shook his head laughing quietly with his brother, "An open book," He repeated, "God you make me feel pathetic." He huffed a short breath, "Alright, well…I just need some kind of distraction. We could talk or watch TV or whatever man I just can't be left alone, or in the quiet. I'll go mad."

Dean nodded somberly before flipping over and grabbing the remote off the night stand, switching on the television, "Here," He said handing the remote over, "Pick whatever looks good. We can watch bugs fuck or grass grow or whatever it is you nerds like to watch on those discovery shows." He grinned lazily as Sam looked up at him, trademark bitch face securely in place as his brother snatched away the remote and hit Dean in the chest.

Dean just laughed rolling with the impact and laying on his back, propping himself up on the pillows as Sam channel surfed, finally landing on some deep sea fishing show and settling back onto the bed with him. Dean couldn't help but notice Sam's legs begin shaking a steady rhythm under the covers a few minutes later, a nervous habit his brother had had since they were kids. Dean let it go, hoping it would subside soon.

But only a five minutes later Sam started rubbing the nail of his ring finger against the soft sheets of their bed with the tip of his thumb, another nervous habit he only ever did on rare, very stressful situations. It was a weird, unexplainable one, something Dean would never understand, but a telltale sign that Sam wasn't alright nonetheless.

"Alright Sammy, new tactic," Dean said sitting up quickly, catching Sam's distanced attention as he started next to him, "You're doin' the whole," Dean mimicked Sam's rubbing-nail-thing with his hand in the air, "thing so I know you're on edge. Why don't you try talking to me or somethin'. Anything else you wanna do that'd get your mind off it?"

"Its creepy how well you know me." Sam muttered momentarily distracted from the question his brother had just asked. Dean just looked at him expectantly, getting him back to the conversation, "Fuck Dean I don't know," Sam said, frustrated, "it's hard to get through - to think about anything else or feel anything else once its in my head. It's persistent, like this thrumming constant ache that makes my whole body, just, so uncomfortable. I don't wanna sit still but I don't wanna move and I don't wanna talk but I can't stand the quiet and…. I don't know, it's just _there_, beggin' me to go shoot up and make it stop. It feels like I could never relax again, never feel anything but this prickly, anxious feeling again without it." Sam explained finally taking a break for a deep breath, "Anyway the point was I don't know what I could do to distract myself, cause once its started its kinda hard to break through."

Dean looked at him sympathetically, "I'm really sorry Sammy," He breathed as he slowly curled himself around Sam, tucking his brother's head to his shoulder and throwing a leg over his hips protectively, cradling his whole body to his.

"Don't have to be Dean," Sam whispered into the soft cotton against his cheek, "I did this to myself."

And Dean really didn't know what to say to that, he couldn't find any words that would fix the situation anyway, so he let it go unanswered and simply held Sam tighter.

The night was long after that, dragging on with hours of Dean just holding his brother, talking of nothing heavy as he stroked along Sam's skin, his arms, back, chest, anything he could reach to slowly calm him back down. He eventually told him to get on his stomach, deciding to go a little further as he worked his way through a full body massage, finding a bottle of lotion from the motel bathroom and using it to lather his brother's skin, rubbing out the knots of tension in his body.

Dean was rock hard by the end of it – feeling all those beautifully curved, tensed muscles give under his hands – and was provided no relief from the one person he wanted it from, but it put Sam right to sleep and in the end that's honestly all he cared about. So he snuck off to the bathroom once his brother was slumbering and took care of himself quickly before finally allowing himself to crash again.

The next week passed uneventfully. They hustled for money, called Bobby a few times to check in, and spent every moment possible together. Taking care of each other, helping each other gather themselves again after the hellish months, finally taking a moment to truly relax. They got to know each other again, under the new circumstances and status of relationship, and they healed.

As much as they could anyway.

Sam still had nightmares. The vivid, intense, flashback nightmares that would leave him a panicked, worn out mess and wake him in the midst of screaming and thrashing under invisible restraints, in phantom pain and sobbing for it to stop, begging for Dean to help.

God and did it break his brother's heart every time.

It was their seventh day staying at the motel and Sam was not getting any better. Not like he assured time and again he would.

Dean woke before the first scream ever came; he was accustomed to the harsh pants that led up to it and sat up quickly as they began. He tried, like every other time, to wake Sam before it got too bad but as always, to no avail. Shaking him did nothing, whispering soothingly in his ear, yelling at him, cradling him, restraining him; Dean was as helpless as Sam. Because his brother never woke up - not until it was over and always on his own terms.

But Dean couldn't stand by and simply watch either, he always tried to help anyway, it was engrained in his programming. 'Take care of Sammy.'

"No, no." Sam muttered, his arms going rigid at his sides before lifting in front of his chest, jerking roughly toward some invisible form. He was fighting off something, someone, and the thought made Dean's stomach roll with nausea.

"Hey come on Sammy, you're alright." Dean coaxed soothingly as he leaned back, making sure he didn't touch his brother as he tried to calm him down. He'd realized early that any physical contact only added to the reality of the nightmare as they'd progressed in their intensity and terror over the week. "You can fight this brother, just open your eyes for me." Dean pleaded, really not wanting to get to the desperate, sobbing screams. He found himself once again immensely grateful though that they didn't have any immediate neighbors because, like every other time, he knew they would come.

"Please, no." Sam breathed uneasily, eyes scrunching tighter closed as his brow knit in pain or distress, Dean couldn't tell. "_Don'_." Sam slurred and moaned the forceful word in his deep sleep haze just before it came, "NO!" He yelled, choking painfully on the sound as his back arched off the bed, his fists bunched by his hips as they pounded into the bed.

"Sammy please." Dean whispered dejectedly as he watched his brother succumb once again to the horrors that constantly plagued their nights.

Sam gasped and his legs twitched up, bending at the knees before slamming back into the bed, trying to push himself up, to scramble away. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, invisible in the sweat already dripping off his body and soaking the sheets.

He gave one more hoarse, anguished cry before lurching up right and wrenching his eyes open. Dean was there in front of him the second Sam was conscious, his hand coming down on his heaving chest, his other cupping Sam's face as he calmed him down with the same generic words of reassurance he'd used every other time.

Once Sam realized it was just a dream, calmed his erratic breathing somewhat and relaxed his frozen muscles, he swung his legs out of bed and slouched forward onto his knees, letting the sweat drip down from his nose and onto the carpet below, silently trying to pull himself together. Dean sighed inaudibly and moved to sit next to him, chancing a hand on his brother's shoulder. He was glad when Sam didn't shake him off.

Dean gave him a few minutes to recoup before handing him a glass of water from the nightstand and beginning to speak, "Sam, I know you've said before this will stop on its own and whatever, that you're fine, but honestly dude I can't just sit back and watch anymore. This is the opposite of fine. And those things you keep saying just sound like excuses _I_ would bullshit to avoid talking about something." Sam slowly turned his sweat-sheened face to throw him a side long, weary glance that pleaded 'just drop it.'

"Come on Sam please, I'm actually begging you here, please let me help you. Tell me what to do to make this better. Just talk to me man, I can't take watching you like this anymore. Reliving that shit every night, I can't sit here and do nothing."

"Dean I don't know what you want me to do. I can't just magically stop sleeping or something." Sam snapped.

"I don't want you to. I want you to face this shit so you can at least have a chance at moving past it." Dean paused, hoping his reasoning was getting through to him, but Sam said nothing, "What if you have PTSD? That shit just gets worse the longer you leave it alone."

"God you sound like a fuckin' shrink Dean."

"Whatever it takes man, I'll _become_ a shrink if it means you'll talk to me. Please."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam shouted as he stood abruptly, facing Dean with his arms out stretched in question, "Huh? You want me to take you through that night? Explain all the explicit little details, 'cause hell I know you wanna hear 'em." Sam yelled degradingly, heavy sarcasm in his words, "You want me to talk about how it makes me feel sad? Maybe throw in a few tears too? You can hold me while I cry." Sam mocked exaggeratingly, scoffing as he dropped his arms and turned away, "You've really lost it man if you think any of that shrink shit will help."

"Sam do you hear yourself right now? Dean asked incredulously, "You realize I practically invented what you're doing right now. The whole sarcastic, cocky defense mechanism, piss someone off enough until you can push them away, its all shit you learned from me! You have to know I see right through it." Dean stated taking a moment to catch his breath and calm his tone, "And I also know, you know from experience that when I had something that was messing me up, something I really didn't want to talk about, the only way I got the chance to get past it was talking to _you_ about it." Dean finished quietly, hoping beyond hope that he'd finally gotten through.

Sam sighed heavily, sitting back down on the bed next to his brother, obviously warring with himself, trying to find a way to deny Dean's words. Deny what he knew in his heart was true.

"Okay fine, you're right Dean. That worked for you, talking helped." Sam conceded dejectedly, "But it was never something like this." He whispered looking back down at his feet, "It was never you just being a complete dumb ass, getting yourself-" Sam hissed in the rest of his words shaking his head, but he didn't need to finish, Dean understood.

"You're right Sam. I've never been through something like this, and I don't know the first thing about how it feels to try and deal with, but I do know that trying to keep it buried won't work." Dean said as softly as he could, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his brother, offer some kind of comfort, knowing it'd only do more harm than good. "If it's not me you want to talk to that's fine man, we've got money now we can see someone who actually knows what they're doin'. Whatever you want."

"Back to the shrink," Sam laughed without any real humor, shaking his head despondently, "I'm 6'4, built and healthy and I was raised by an ex-marine, trained to fight, to be on guard at all times and never let anyone get the upper hand." Sam began quietly, "Admitting to some stranger that I let four _humans_ rape me in some back alley because I was high on heroin? It would do more harm than good. Trust me," Sam breathed out shakily, trying to keep the wobble out of his voice, "Admitting it at all…it hurts like hell man. Every time I even think about it all I'm reminded of is dad, and how stupid and weak I am and how disappointed he'd be if he knew. The shame I'd see when he looked at me… because he taught me better, ya know?" Sam asked finally turning to Dean, desperation and desolation all over his face, coloring his voice, "He taught us better, he dedicated his life to making sure we could take care of ourselves and I go and…"

"Sam listen to me," Dean ordered, urgency clear in his voice as he slipped to the ground at his brother's feet, "Listen. You didn't _let_ those bastards do anything to you. Yeah, you were high and maybe if you hadn't been you would've had a chance," Dean conceded, "but even then maybe _not_. Probably not. There were four of them man, human or not they had an advantage. And regardless of how they did it they overpowered you, it doesn't mean it's_ you're fault_. You did not ask for this, you hear me? You have to stop looking at it like you're to blame." Dean demanded watching the gathered moisture in his brother's eyes shake with every breath, clinging to the rims as it fought not to fall.

"God Dean I can't do this." Sam whispered, finally cracking, his façade of strength crumbling and his strength vanishing as he slumped forward tugging his hands through his hair, "I can't man, I can't deal with it. I mean…shit it was easier going through withdrawal than this. Now my heads clear, it's all I can think about, and I _can't_ think about it Dean. I just can't." Sam begged, stifling sobs with harsh controlled breaths.

"Shh Sam you're okay." Dean soothed getting back up onto the bed and pulling his distraught brother into his arms, "Just keep breathing, you're alright." He whispered rubbing his palm up and down Sam's spine.

"Don't let them win Sammy." Dean whispered once Sam had quieted and stilled in his arms.

"I feel like they already have."

_**It'll get happier, promise. I won't end it all despondent and shit I swear. But we're gettin' somewhere huh? Closer to the end! Hope ya'll enjoyed!**_

_**Xx**_


	14. Chapter 14

_If anyone out there by some chance actually ends up reading this old dust bunny of a story, I suggest going back and reading the chapter before to freshen up on where we left off, cause I picked up _right_ there. _

_On another note, I suck at endings, and, well, this is the end! It's been months I know but better late than never right? I know it's been seriously dragged out but here it is! So for those of you few and far between who read this, review? Cause I'd love to know how the end's received. Never actually finished a story before haha. So we'll see how it goes. Hope you enjoy._

_Now that this is done I swear to everything good that I will get right back on OTW, I know it's been too long. Love you guys for hangin in there!_

_Xx_

Dean's heart shattered hearing the softly spoken confession whispered into his shoulder, so desolate and submissive. He couldn't handle hearing those words, or the defeat that dripped from them.

"Don't say that Sam." He breathed, clutching his brother tighter, "Don't say that." His head shook in denial. "It's not true. Long as you don't give up it's not true." He encouraged as strongly as he could.

Sam sucked in a deep lungful of air before squeezing his eyes shut, "I don't know how to get past this Dean." He shuddered, eventually backing away from the embrace to look his brother in the eye, "I don't know how to keep going if I have to relive this every night. I don't know," He shook his head, "I just…_don't_ know what to _do_."

Dean's chest felt like it was collapsing hearing the desperation in Sam's voice, pleading for him to find something, anything to make this better. His body felt like it was concaving, being sucked into a black hole at the center of his chest and he _had_ to do something. He'd try anything at this point to keep Sam from giving up. He would not let this take over.

"Maybe you should…maybe you _should_ take me through that night." Dean croaked, wishing there were any other words he could've said, any other way he could've thought to help his brother, but there wasn't - he was running out of options. "I know it's hard Sammy, I can't even imagine…but it could help. To get it all out, face it head on, and then maybe start letting it go. Moving on." He whispered, stroking the back of Sam's neck as he spoke, feeling the tension in the muscles under his hands.

"Dean I…" Sam choked before ducking his head onto Dean's shoulder again, clutching at his back, trying to hide from the words. He'd do anything not to go back there, especially not with Dean.

"I know Sammy, shh, sh. It's okay." Dean comforted, continuing to soothe his brother with gentle hands and calm words, "I know you don't want to, but maybe you should try." He rasped, his voice quiet and low next to Sam's ear.

Sam trembled slightly against Dean, "You don't wanna know, Dean." He shook his head against his brother. "Don't make me tell you, you don't wanna know."

Sam was right, he really didn't. In fact he'd give just about anything to never hear the details of that night, but knowing it was for Sam, Dean steeled himself and stayed strong.

"I do Sammy." Dean whispered, "I want to know. You can tell me." He breathed hugging Sam tighter, "You can tell me anything, you know that. I won't judge you and I sure as hell 'm not going anywhere, you've got nothing to be scared of. I'll be right here. Always."

"Dean," Sam croaked, shaking his head again, "Please…" He sighed shakily, not even sure what he was asking for anymore.

Dean's teeth ground down, his jaw aching as he hardened himself against the tears that wanted to surface, "Come on Sam." He huffed dropping his chin down onto Sam's head, still tucked into his chest, "You can do this. Please, I don't know what else to try."

Sam stilled in Dean's arms, seeming to soften at hearing the pain in his brother's voice, only then realizing how hard this was for him too.

"I'll be right here the whole time, you've got nothing to be scared of. You can tell me." Dean repeated, rubbing lightly across his back and shoulders, through the soft curls at the base of his neck and down his ribs.

Sam took in a shuddering breath, shut his eyes and steeled himself for what he was about to do. He took in another, filled his lungs deep and tried to let the walls down in his head, tried to take himself back to that night, fighting every instinct screaming at him not to.

Slowly, reluctantly, he let the floodgates open, let in the haunted memories and tried to hold himself together as it all promptly resurfaced; shaking him to the core and drowning him in overwhelmingly dreaded and buried sensations, images, pain. 

"Shh Sammy, it's okay. I'm right here." Dean consoled, sensing Sam slowly surrendering to that night, trembling harder in his arms, "What happened?" He prodded, trying to numb himself from what he was about to hear and knowing he failed hopelessly the second Sam started to speak.

"I…" Sam rasped before clearing his throat and pulling away from Dean, hardening his features into what he hopped was an emotionless mask as he leaned forward onto his knees, dropping his head to rest between his shoulders.

"Like I told you before, I'd just shot up when it happened." He finally began, his voice hard and unforgiving, concealing any emotion attached to the words. "…And I remember I was having these, _surreal_ dreams, but I wasn't asleep, and I knew they were dreams. I remember...fantasizing a lot that day. My dreams were all about you," Sam smiled sadly, "The high…it always made me think of you. Was like I could feel you there, everywhere around me.

"God it always felt _so_ good, so _real_. Every time it was like…I wasn't even in my own body anymore, like I was in another dimension, just floating in space, in the most _intense_ ecstasy, surrounded by everything I could've ever wanted. Never wanted it to stop." He whispered, his eyes distant and wistful as he recalled what seemed to be the only good part of that day.

Dean watched as his brother's eyes slowly clouded and darkened, sensing as the next part of his story quickly surfaced in his thoughts, "It's okay Sam. Keep going." He encouraged gently, his heart still aching from his brother's quiet admission of the all-consuming pleasure of his high, every sensation seemingly centered around _him_.

Dean was distantly reminded of the withdrawal and the painful knowledge that all of this could've been avoided if he'd realized what his brother had wanted earlier. He wouldn't have run away if Dean had woken his stupid, sorry ass up sooner and recognized what'd been right in front of him all along.

Dean silently sighed as Sam blinked hard once and continued.

"They snuck up on me without me ever realizing," Sam shook his head with a self-deprecating chuckle, "It's sad how easy I made it for them. Practically handed myself over, begged to be taken." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "They knocked me out with a freakin' pan," Sam chortled again, no humor in the sound. Dean's nostril's flared as his jaw clenched again, knowing the horror of that moment and disregarding his brother's quiet laughter, recognizing it as the defense mechanism it was.

"I came to a few hours later, sitting up against a wall in some other disgusting back alley. The four of them were laughing. Talking, I couldn't understand 'em though. I remember feeling really _heavy_." He breathed, "They gave me something, muscle relaxants maybe I don't know, I just remember it was so hard to move. Impossible almost.

"I tried anyway," He shrugged, "Barely got an inch before they realized I was awake. And I could hear them moving closer. Tried to open my eyes, but it was hard. Then one of 'em hit me…woke me up a little I guess, and I got my eyes open. It was so dark though it really didn't help much. Then they hit me again, knocked me over onto my side." Sam flinched ever so subtly, as if he'd actually just been hit, he was so deep in his memories it probably felt like he had and Dean had to repress the urge to stop his brother from going on, holding his tongue and fighting his instincts to let him continue.

"X came up to me, grabbed my face, yanked my head up and…asked if I'd missed him…" Sam twitched again, the movement hardly even noticeable as flash of a memory struck through his thoughts, but Dean saw it. "That's when I realized who they were…that fucking accent." Dean bit his lip, watching Sam struggle through his words and trying his hardest not to speak, not wanting to interrupt the delicacy of the moment, knowing Sam could clam up at any time.

"He…leaned in toward me, forced my mouth open, bit at my lip," Sam's fingers unconsciously brushed over his mouth, "And shoved his tongue in." He finished in disgust, his face pinching up at the memory as his hand fell away, "When he was done, he asked if the others wanted a taste.

"One of 'em did…tasted like onions and whiskey. Was disgusting." He snipped, his voice hard and curt. "They gagged me after that. …Shoved the rag so deep I could hardly breathe. I kept gagging on it, and I tried to claw it out but they put duct tape around my head and I just didn't have the strength to fight them…"

Dean suppressed a shudder and stayed quiet, allowing Sam to stay focused on his story, trying his hardest not to bring him from his memories.

"X started in with his bravado, bragging, tellin' me how much he was gonna enjoy this, that they hadn't had this kinda fun in too long, how revenge was just icing on the cake, gettin' in my face about it." He said quietly before a small smile crept over his lips, "So I head-butted him, knocked him on his ass."

Dean was about to laugh with him when Sam's small smirk vanished like a candle in the wind, "For a second at least." He continued, somber again, "In the end it really didn't end up being worth the moment's satisfaction, I just pissed him off." Sam shrugged shaking his head, "'S when he started kickin' me, broke my ribs."

Dean tensed imperceptibly, his muscles all contracting at once in restrained rage as he remembered the extent of that damage - the deep black bruises, the way the bones shifted under his brother's discolored skin - and tried not to give away his anger so Sam could keep going.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a huff, "It was getting pretty hard to breathe at that point, and when he finally stopped he got up and straddled me, and I remember grabbing at his jacket, panicking for help.

"He just laughed. So I tried to calm myself down, got my breathing under control, but then his hands started…feeling over me, landed on my belt buckle." Sam breathing sped and Dean had to hold himself back again from touching his brother, from wrapping him up in his arms and hiding him away from the world forever.

Sam trembled once before taking another controlled breath and forcing himself to relax.

"He moved his hand down my pants, under my boxers, cupped me, started…feeling around." He shuddered out a breath, "I tried not to fight him, Dean. Knew if I did I'd just piss him off and make things worse…. But I couldn't. I couldn't take it, and I pushed at him." He shook his head, "He ordered two of his guys to get my hands…and they pinned them to the ground with their boots."

Dean sucked in what he tried to make a calming breath, now remembering the look of his brother's broken, swollen hands, his inability to even move them for over a week. Dean felt the familiar ball rise up in his throat, trying to keep his breathing composed and push away any threatening tears.

"I cried out, couldn't help it, they wouldn't let up. And that pissed him off too. He told me to stay quiet, that there'd be hell to pay if I got them caught. And he grabbed my balls…squeezed his fist around 'em so fucking tight, man. God I couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but that white hot ache: in my stomach, in my legs…. Hurt like a bitch." Sam said punctually, his tone lightening at the end, obviously trying to downplay the intensity of his pain once he realized he was revealing it.

"Kids are definitely out of the picture," Sam said, shooting what he tried to make look like a playful smirk at his brother, but it felt all wrong on his face and all he saw was pain in his brother's eyes when he met them, immediately wiping away any attempt at lightening the mood. Sam sighed biting the inside of his lip and turned back away, stalling.

"Anyway, after that, X uh…flipped me over, onto my stomach." His voice cracked as he rubbed his hand roughly over his mouth, "He pulled off my jeans, everything, hiked up my sweatshirt." His head moved back and forth, "I tried to fight him, so they tied my hands.

"X um…asked for something from one of the guys, a crowbar I later found out. Thanked him when he got it and then climbed on top of me. He was up next to my ear, taunting me. Sayin' how I'd thought it was over last time we'd met. I tried to shake him off, but my ribs were making it hard to move…and then it was pointless 'cause someone stepped on my back - was plenty enough to get me to stop.

"I remember X saying, 'no one beats on us and _walks_ away to tell the tale.'" Sam paused, discernibly fighting his crushing emotions struggling to get out from behind the steel mask. His shoulders shook and his eyes hardened, his nostrils flaring slightly as his breath sped, preparing for his next words.

"Then he took that thing…and shoved it inside me." Sam stated matter-of-factly, the still present shake in his shoulders giving away the devastating weight of his words.

Dean's wall of strength crumbled there, unable to hold back the floodgate of emotions that welled inside him at hearing that soft statement fall from his brother's lips. His head dropped as he let out a hard breath, his hands balling into fists at his knees as tears welled behind his closed lids.

"And he was relentless." Sam ground out, his voice low and dangerous, "Had me screamin' and cryin' like a little bitch. …There's just…" His breath left him in a harsh sigh, cutting off his sentence as his head dipped, shaking, "There's no way to describe that kind of pain." He said, his eyes flickering halfway shut as a tear dropped quickly down his cheek.

Dean pulled in a shaking breath, stifling a sob in his chest as he brought his fist up over his mouth, trying to get a reign on his inner turmoil and stay strong for his brother.

"Not just because it hurts, but because of what it does to your head." Sam continued a moment later, "It's the most…debasing thing - humiliating and terrifying." Sam shook his head, looking at the wall before them, "And it changes _everything. _I mean…these people took the most _precious_, personal experience – the one thing that's supposed to bring two people as close as they can get, the physical act of _love_ – and turned it into something dirty and disgusting. A nightmare." Sam grated, his voice sure and low and overcome with unmasked torment.

Things fell silent for an achingly long minute as Sam just breathed, summoning the strength and will to keep going, and Dean fought to be as silent as possible as tears continued their steady stream down his face.

"Anyway…eventually X stopped. Pulled the thing out and threw it down. And then he left." Sam said and Dean's heart leapt with relief, falsely believing that it was over as a long sigh of reprieve left him.

Dean was about to reach out for his brother – to pull him into his arms and thank God that it was done and they could start moving past this – when Sam spoke again.

"And I thought it was over," He whispered, his voice higher now, strangled by his tears, unknowingly repeating Dean's thoughts while simultaneously dashing them, "X was leaving…said he got bored, that he taught me my lesson. I thought they were _done_.

"I remember laying there, twitching on the ground, feeling the blood run down my thighs…and praying to _God_ that they were finished. That they'd all follow X and just leave me alone. Let me die, anything." His head shook in rejection, "But two of them stayed.

"I had passed the point of caring what they did to me by then, but as soon as I heard the two of them agreeing to 'stick around', heard their belt buckles coming undone…" Sam's eyes shut calmly, more droplets dripping from his lashes, "I couldn't help it. I cared, way too damn much.

"And I knew I had to do something, anything to stop them. Cause they _couldn't_ do it, I couldn't _let_ them do it. …And I tried to fight Dean, I was thinking about you and I tried to fight." He huffed, his words coming quicker now, muddled and desperate, "I tried so damn hard but…everything hurt so bad, and one of them kicked me in the head," Sam said, his rambling frantic now as his hand flew up over his face where the resulting scar remained, "And I just couldn't fight, I couldn't get them off…Dean I tried." Tears began hindering his words, "It was for you. I was saving it for you. God I tried. I didn't mean to…" His voice tapered off into hitched breaths and quiet, coughed sobs.

Dean surged forward into his brother, immediately wrapping him up in his arms as an audible sob clawed its way from his own chest, "It's okay baby, it wasn't your fault. It _wasn't_ your fault Sammy. Sh sh…" He quelled running his hands through Sam's hair as the levy finally broke, all the pent up anguish and regret and guilt pouring from his brother in wretched, desperate weeps.

They hung to each other like lifelines, clinging to the dwindling hope that in the end, things would be alright, if only they stayed just like this.

"I'm sorry De…they just wouldn't stop. They wouldn't let me go, 'M sorry." He coughed through sobs, his tears drenching Dean's nightshirt and mangling his words.

"Don't you dare apologize Sam," Dean whispered into Sam's neck, encasing him in his arms tighter, "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. _I'm_ sorry." He growled quietly, "So sorry you had to go through that…shoulda been there to protect you." He cried softly into Sam's sweat-sticky skin, his hands curling into fists in Sam's hair, "Shoulda been there…. 'M so sorry baby, so fuckin' sorry."

Sam was too lost in his own gasping breaths and harsh, strangled sobs to answer; he simply clung to Dean with every ounce of his strength and tried to calm the pain.

They remained that way for an insurmountable time, minutes stretching into lifetimes until eventually Sam moved in Dean's arms, slowly maneuvering himself around until he could gently nudge against his brother, pushing them down until they were laying on the bed, and never once letting go of each other. Sam's hitching cries died to sniffling solitary tears as he curled himself into the circle of Dean's arms, getting as small as he could as they settled into the bed.

"'S okay now Sammy, everything's gonna be alright." Dean sighed turning his face into Sam's hair and inhaling deeply as his brow pinched, "No one's ever gonna hurt you again." He swore with every ounce of his soul, pressing his lips into his brother's locks as one of his hands moved down his back in a gentle, calmative caress.

Sam gradually tilted his head up until he could look at his brother through his dripping lashes, thanking him with his eyes alone for a thousand things he couldn't name.

Dean met his brother's eyes with nothing but love and acceptance and protection, and descended toward his lips to cover them with his own. The kiss was gentle but bubbled with passion and trust, pain and fear. They both clutched at each other tighter until their bodies melded, relishing the strangely soothing swells of passion and need that soared through them with every brush of their lips, tongues, hands.

Sam pushed himself into the kiss harder, his tongue pumping along Dean's as his thigh slid between his brother's and prodded up into his groin, eliciting a long groan from deep in his chest. Dean breathed into Sam's mouth before dipping his head down under Sam's and rocking into the pressure between his legs, the friction spiking trails of pleasure up into his stomach and through his chest, down his legs.

"Sammy." Dean breathed, his fist balling up the back of his brother's sleep-wrinkled shirt before drifting over his contracting muscles and down to his waistband, slowly stroking the fine hairs that disappeared under his boxers.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, the memories too fresh in his mind for the touch to feel good yet – he felt the phantom hands of his attackers – and Sam couldn't take it. He wanted the reminders gone, wanted to feel normal again, wanted this to feel relaxed and safe like it was supposed to.

"Dean," He whispered softly through the re-surfacing ball tightening his throat. "I…"

Dean's hand stilled, coming to rest above his mostly healed ribs and rubbing softly into the skin, "What is it Sammy?"

Sam brought his head down to rest his forehead against Dean's, breathing on his lips.

"I need you." He whispered threw his constricted throat as his hand wrapped around the back of his brother's neck, holding him securely to himself, "Please, make it go away." He shook his head, "I don't wanna feel them anymore."

Dean felt that familiar pressure-ache in his chest and clenched his eyes shut, "What do you need Sammy?" He whispered, "What can I do?"

Sam paused, just breathing into the space between them as his heart raced and his head buzzed, anxiety and love and pain and need all thrashing and warring within him.

"Make love to me." He exhaled.

The air stilled around them, the world froze and time stopped as Sam waited, resigned and silent, for Dean to respond. But Dean was too stunned to form an answer yet; he didn't know what he'd been expecting to hear but that had not been it.

"Sam…" Dean croaked quietly, "I…. You sure?" He asked tenderly, his fingers trailing down the soft curve of his cheek.

Sam's eyes flitted up to his brother's, their hazel green orbs like flames, filled with determination and heated passion, fear and lust. He nodded.

"Say it Sam," He commanded, "I need to hear you say it." Just a whisper of a breath. He was unable to go on without Sam's voiced consent, couldn't bear the thought of doing anything he wasn't ready for.

"I'm sure Dean. I want this, want you." Sam clamped his eyes shut, "Only you."

Dean cupped Sam's jaw and kissed him on the forehead, letting his lips linger there as he whispered, "Okay Sammy. Okay."

Sam breathed out a quaking sigh and let Dean gradually push himself up to hover over him, moving his legs so they were tucked between his own. "We'll go slow Sammy, slow as you want." His brother said, his voice hushed and calm.

He leaned down into his lips again, the touch a slow burn that smoldered heat throughout their entire bodies, "I love you." Dean vowed as they broke apart, his voice a cool breeze against his brother's lips.

"Love you." Sam returned as he arched back up into his brother, his body curling to mold around Dean's like a puzzle piece, slow and deliberate. Dean turned his face into the crook of Sam's neck, pushing his parted lips into the fiery skin before his tongue dipped out to taste the pure essence of his brother.

He gradually levered himself up onto his knees, leaving Sam panting on the bed before him; Dean ran his hand up and down his thigh reassuringly before grabbing the neckline of his night-T from behind his head. He raised his other arm and pulled the shirt from his back, letting it drop to the side with a soft sigh.

"Y'okay Sam?" Dean whispered, resting a palm on his brother's knee.

Sam nodded jerkily, his eyes bouncing over Dean's torso, glinting in the lamplight from the bedside table. Dean nodded back and slowly reached for Sam's hand, pulling him up until he was sitting in front of him.

His hands played with the hem of his brother's shirt as his eyes silently asked permission to remove it. Sam blinked once before looking down at Dean's grip, and lightly grasped it in his own, pulling their hands up. He raised his arms and let his brother tug it the rest of the way off, tossing it by his own.

Dean quickly slipped off the edge of the bed then, looking over the flat planes of Sam's sun-darkened chest, and hooked his thumbs in the waist band of his boxers, never moving from Sam's eyes as he pushed them off his hips and laid himself bare for his brother. Shaking with as much vulnerability as power, he knelt back on the bed, settled between Sam's open legs, and curled his fingers around Sam's waistband.

He made no move to pull the material off, just rubbed his thumbs into the sensitive junctions of Sam's hips and stared into his brother's wide golden eyes, calm and patient, waiting for direction. Sam took in a breath and lifted his hips just an inch off the bed, his silent allowance as he let Dean pull off his underwear.

Immediately flashbacks were clashing around behind his eyes as the soft fabric slipped down his legs and the chill of the outside air stunned his exposed body. And just as quickly, there was the heat of another emanating from above as it lay down beside him and curled around his frame. The comfort of that heat and the sound of the breath fanning over his neck were both as familiar as they were safe and soon the flashbacks dwindled to nothing but faded echoes of the past. He opened his eyes.

"Just me Sammy." Dean whispered lovingly, his voice soft and whiskey-scratched as it penetrated the silence and his hand rubbed circles over the smooth curves and valleys of Sam's chest. "You're safe here."

Sam shut his eyes once more and let the truth of those words wash over him in waves of all-consuming trust and love as he turned his head toward Dean and pushed up into his waiting lips. He brought his arm around the back of Dean's head and kept him close as he delved into his warmth, his tongue soft and pliant, moving over his brother's.

Dean slowly pushed himself up onto his elbow, hovering halfway over Sam's body as the kiss deepened and his hand moved farther down his torso, fingers skimming over the nestle of wiry curls to brush down into the inside of his thigh. His touch was gentle and slow but it might as well have been a punch to the gut seeing Sam's reaction as he gasped and clutched at Dean's shoulder, his eyes slamming closed once more.

"Shh baby," Dean cooed into Sam's ear, his tongue dipping out into the shell, "'Member 's just me." He reminded as he moved to gently cup Sam's half-hard dick and push his palm up, providing the little friction Sam needed to get out of his head.

Sam let out his lungful of air in a shudder as his body began to respond to the small touch, his hips rolling up into the contact. "That's it," Dean praised as his hand slowly curled into a loose fist around him, still pumping languidly.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam's face for a few paced minutes, making sure he was still here with him, before dipping his head down to peck Sam's collarbone, slowly moving down the trail of his torso. Sam's little shocked inhales and quiet, breathy moans encouraged Dean to keep moving until his lips were wrapped around the head of Sam's cock, sucking the leaking juices onto his tongue.

Sam startled up off the bed with a soft cry, his legs bending up to push his hips farther into the heat, Dean taking him down as far as Sam let him and sucking hard once before pushing his mouth further down Sam's length. A second later he let up the pressure and looked straight into Sam's eyes.

Sam's answering gaze was confused and crazed with lust as it locked with Dean's, obviously wondering why his brother's stopped and begging him to continue as he held him still and steady on his soft tongue. Dean grabbed one of Sam's hands and put it on his head, silently giving him permission for control as his hand slid down his forearm encouragingly.

As soon as Sam understood, his eyes shot wide and his back arched off the bed, his hips timidly pushing into Dean's waiting mouth as his hands kept him in place, in awe of his own power and Dean's willingness to submit to it.

"God Dean," Sam breathed, moving Dean's head up and down over himself, pumping his hips up off the bed, unable to quell the harsh sob of pleasure that tore itself from his chest as he brushed the back of Dean's throat and his brother swallowed.

Dean backed up and off his brother just a couple thrusts later, much too soon for Sam, and wiped his lips with the back off his hand as he looked down at Sam's heaving chest and heavy eyes.

"Damn Sammy," Dean praised looking over the impossibly tantalizing sight his brother made, spread out so beautifully for him, and watched as his brother's hand quickly snuck down to grasp himself, moaning obscenely as he pumped himself with unchecked need. Dean stilled Sam's ministrations as he circled his thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock, squeezing gently to stave him off, despite Sam's groan of displeasure, "Patience is virtue baby." Dean dipped his head down till his lips were at Sam's ear, "Let me get inside you first."

Sam let out a burning, keening whimper, "Come on Dea…" He sighed, his nostrils flaring as he refilled his lungs, "Need you."

Dean kissed Sam's neck and pushed himself back up, "'M right here Sammy," He assured running his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. But Sam continued pleading with his eyes, rutting his hips into the air, so Dean leaned forward to cover Sam's lips with his own, taking a few more shallow breaths before scooting back.

He carefully took each of Sam's knees in his hands and pushed them up until his legs were bent on the bed, resting on either side of Dean's shoulders. He reverently brushed the inside of Sam's left thigh before slowly dragging his lips up along the heated flesh and back toward the dark cluster of hairs at his center.

Dean glanced up toward his brother and licked the base of his cock before gingerly pulling one of his balls into his mouth, sucking gently at the scorching flesh and rolling it on his tongue until Sam was softly squirming beneath him. He pulled away short seconds later and gradually maneuvered Sam until his hips were canted up onto his propped hands.

"Need you to try 'n' relax Sammy," Dean breathed, kissing the inside of his thigh once more as his breath left him on a sigh, the air raising goose bumps on Sam's flushed skin.

Sam's breath sped minutely but his body stayed remotely pliant in Dean's hands, "Just me okay?" He reminded smoothly.

Dean peered up to see Sam nod shakily, his hands gripping the headboard above him with white-knuckles and his arms flexing beautifully as they strained to keep himself still.

"You alright?" Dean asked rubbing his thumbs into Sam's muscles, willing his own confidence and reassurance into him, "'M not gonna hurt you Sammy, everything's okay." Sam nodded again, still keeping his eyes away from him, "Hey," Dean called a little louder this time, "We can stop Sam." He promised, "At any time, if it's too much, we can stop."

Sam let out a trembling exhale as his eyes closed before moving his head down to look back at his brother, "I trust you." He vowed, "I want this Dean. Keep going." He nodded in emphasis to his words even as his shoulders shook and his eyes glistened in the dim light of the room.

Dean debated a moment, stroking Sam's skin comfortingly as he wondered just how sincere his brother was being. But Sam kept his gaze steadily fixed on him, insistent and giving off as much conviction as he could so they could keep going. And eventually, Dean couldn't fight those eyes anymore; he gave, nodding back.

"Okay." He breathed against the skin of Sam's thigh, his eyes closing as he held on tightly to his faith in Sam's honesty, "But you stop me, for _whatever_ reason, if you feel like you need to. No questions asked and no judgment from me, you know that. Alright?"

Sam nodded once more and Dean kissed his brother's stomach before dipping back down between his spread legs. He moved his palms over the backs of Sam's thighs before stilling on his buttocks, his thumbs brushing timorously along his crack and feeling his brother tense discreetly under the touch.

Dean gave Sam a few seconds to relax before carefully spreading him, slowly exposing his hole to the cool air. He heard Sam suck in a sharp breath and stilled, but he didn't voice any reluctance to continue, so Dean leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the opening, letting his tongue dip out to taste a few short moments later.

"Ah…" Sam huffed, sucking in another breath through his teeth as his hands strained to pull his body away from the prodding sensation, warring with his head, which forced him to stay still. He quickly wrenched his eyes open and looked down at Dean's head nestled between his legs, the sight slamming him with a wave of lust so intense he almost forgot his earlier fear.

Dean's hand ran up along Sam's hip and over his trembling belly as his tongue started gently pushing past the first resisting ring of muscle and Sam bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. He started chanting Dean's name over and over in his head, fighting to keep himself grounded to reality as his head tried to throw him into horrors of the past.

The grip on his tongue eventually gave and Sam cried out Dean's name, half in pleasure, half in fear, needing reassurance that he was still with him, and not dying in an alley. Dean backed away immediately and crawled up Sam's body, "What is it Sammy? Did I hurt you?" He asked mildly panicked and out of breath as his palm ran over Sam's sternum.

Sam shook his head quickly, alleviating Dean's fears as his brother let out a deep sigh of relief. "No, no, felt good I just…"

"What Sammy?" Dean encouraged tenderly, "We can stop if…"

Sam shook his head again, "No." He puffed on an unsteady exhale, "No." He repeated, "I'm just…having a hard time…keeping myself _here_ I guess." He admitted ashamedly, his voice nothing more than a whisper of a breath. "I think I just, need to be able to see you."

Dean nodded, his chest throbbing for his brother but grateful that there seemed to be a way he could help, "Okay, whatever you need Sammy." He whispered kissing him softly before his brother gradually deepened their touch, getting them both back in the mood for this as they dived into each other again, filling the room with the sucking sounds of their lips and breathy groans of their pleasure, finally breaking apart sometime later, breathless and throbbing to the hammer of their hearts.

Sam grabbed Dean's hand and cupped himself with it drawing a filthy moan from each of them as he rolled into the touch, gradually sliding his brother's hand further up his body and to his mouth. He parted his lips as he brought Dean's fingertips closer and slowly descended his wet heat around two of them, soaking them deftly with his tongue.

Dean grunted on a harsh exhale as he felt the warm cavern of Sam's mouth suck on his fingers, his tongue dipping into the webbing, his teeth pressing into his fingernails, mixing pain and pleasure to drive him absolutely incoherent. Sam's adroit mouth pulled off a minute later and Dean took the chance to catch his breath, looking down at his brother intently - wanting to make sure one last time that he was ready for this.

Sam simply nodded and lifted his head to kiss Dean again, pushing his wet hand down between his still parted legs, "'M okay, promise." Dean nodded against Sam's head before descending toward his lips once more, the passion heating their flushed skin as Dean deftly moved his hand to fondle Sam's balls, massaging them against his body before inching further down to spread liquid over his quivering hole.

Sam's hands clutched Dean's back as he kept his half-lidded gaze solidly locked on his brother's, keeping himself firmly grounded to the moment as Dean slowly and carefully inched his finger inside. Sam's breath quickened with every agonizingly slow inch, his eyes turning to slits and his brow pinching up as Dean reached his second knuckle.

"'S okay baby, it's just me." Dean calmed, running his free hand down Sam's cheek and through his sweat-darkened locks, "You okay? Anything hurt?" He asked softly, keeping his hand still as he let Sam adjust.

Sam's breathing didn't slow and his body didn't relax but his eyes never left Dean's and eventually he found his voice to answer, "No, i-it's okay." He stuttered out on a shuddering breath, "It's okay." He said, voice a little stronger this time.

Dean nodded, "Alright. Lemme know if that changes." He demanded, before slowly lifting himself up onto his knees, grabbing Sam's thigh as he caught sight of his hand disappearing into his brother, and grasped his cock tightly as it jumped at the sight.

"God your beautiful." He sighed, suddenly _needing_ to quell the intensifying ache in his groin as he pulled his fist up around his head and twisted down - watching Sam's eyes follow his every move with awed desire.

Sam's hand reached down to grasp his dick just as quickly, feeling the same need envelope him as he watched his brother slowly jack himself and felt the finger inside him begin pulling out before pushing back in. He gasped arching into his own fist as the friction inside him slowly increased, not painful at all to Sam's surprise.

Dean suddenly crashed forward, catching himself with his arm as he plunged down into Sam's mouth, ravenous and hungry for the sweet taste of Sam's tongue and the hot press of his body against his own.

"Fuck," Sam breathed against Dean's ear as his brother pushed down to suck a hickey into his neck and his hand continued pumping along his length, "Uhh," He moaned, the sound gravelly and loud as it ricocheted through Dean's ear and he huffed a sharp breath into Sam's damp skin as he ground his dick into his hip.

"Dean," Sam keened, "'M ready, you can gimme another." He slurred wetly, his voice already breathless and coarse.

Dean nodded eagerly before returning to Sam's lips, sucking the lower into his mouth to nibble on as his middle finger pressed in against his pointer, excruciatingly slow. Dean let out an inaudible moan as the suction of his brother's heat gradually enveloped his fingers, slowly opening up to let him in. He'd never felt anything so intimate, so awe-full in his life - he clearly understood now Sam's earlier explanation of this act being the one most private, irreplaceable experience for humans. He'd never felt it like this before.

"God I love you." Dean sighed against Sam's lips as his fingers finally bottomed out inside him, wiggling experimentally and feeling the inner walls clench powerfully around him. He groaned at the sensation as his brother pushed his head down into the pillow, his back arcing up in a rash display of overwhelming pleasure.

"A-ahh" Sam half-grunted, half-gasped, "Holy fuck." He sighed collapsing back onto the bed and throwing his hands up to grip the headboard again, "_Damnet_, yes, right there Dean."

"Where Sammy?" Dean asked, the unmistakable hint of playfulness lightening his words, "Here?" He asked, knowingly full-well as he pushed his fingers up into Sam's prostate.

"_AH_." Sam cried pushing down into the unimaginably intense sensation sparking deep through his belly and trickling down between his legs. With a satisfied smirk Dean ducked down to suck a nipple into his mouth, corkscrewing his slippery fingers in and out of his brother to the rhythm of his thundering heart.

"Yeah Sam, that's it baby, wanna hear you." Dean mumble-growled deep in his chest before pushing himself into a kneeling position and fisting Sam's cock once more as he worked in one last finger. He made sure Sam's eyes were fixed on his own as he did, watching carefully to judge whether any slight move hurt him, but all he saw was a slight pinch of his brother's eyes and his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips before Dean was buried to his last knuckle in him.

"Still okay Sammy?"

"Mm" He moaned trying to agree, trying to nod, but too overloaded with a million different sensations to do much of either. So he simply ducked his head under Dean's chin and hid as a particularly powerful growl ripped out of his chest, Dean's fingers gliding torturously over that spot deep inside him.

Dean choked on his own groan as he began steadily massaging over that small patch of flesh that made Sam writhe and pant beneath him, still gyrating his hips over Sam's, pushing their slick cocks against each other for just a fraction of the friction they both truly needed.

"Sam," Dean whined under his breath, ducking his head as well to place his forehead against Sam's, "I-I'm not gonna…fuck. Not gonna last long if we keep…" His voice faded off into an air-deprived gasp as his cock spurted a small glob of precome over Sam's belly.

"Now Dean," Sam huffed, clawing at Dean's back, "'M ready now." He whispered before falling back into the bed, the air punching out of him as Dean's fingers pulled free in the same second.

"Sure?" Dean asked with the last snapping threads of his restraint, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and into Sam's hair, everything a slick mess of sweat and sex between them.

"Yeah." Sam insisted, "It'll be okay," He nodded a moment later, his fingers stroking over the smooth, taut skin of Dean's ass before gripping firmly and pushing his pelvis down into his own, "Need this, Dean. C'mon." He whispered though it came out as more of a desperate groan. "Been waiting…. Too long for this."

Dean slammed his eyes closed and tried to reign in his raging hormones and instincts so as to _not_ shove himself inside right the fuck now, hearing his brother plead so feverishly for him. He rested his head against Sam's sternum, taking a few calming breaths before rolling off and looking back up into his brother's wanton eyes.

"Okay," Dean nodded, grabbing a small bottle of the motel's complimentary lotion from the nightstand and squirting a generous white blob into his hand. He rubbed his hands together for a minute trying to warm the cool cream before slicking it over himself, eyes fluttering closed as the stimulation shocked little tendrils of fiery pleasure through him.

He opened them again before gathering the rest of the slick substance in his hands and spreading them over the tips of a few fingers, locking his brother's timid gaze with his own before finding his puckered opening once more and pushing the cool lotion inside.

Sam arched away from the shock of the temperature but quickly calmed again when Dean laid a gentle hand over his stomach, keeping him in place, "Hang on Sammy," He lulled as his fingers slowly spread and warmed the lotion around and inside him.

Dean let out a controlled sigh as he licked over his dry lips, trying to quiet his nerves and get a handle on his haywire emotions before continuing. Sam was tracking his every move with as much fear as excitement dancing in his bright eyes and Dean didn't know if in that moment he had what it would take to make this good for Sam, to make sure it felt as safe as it did satisfying. He faltered for a moment, his movements stuttering to a stand still.

Dean could see just out of the corner of his avoiding eyes, the second when Sam understood just exactly what was running through his mind.

"Dean…" He breathed looking up into his brother's turned away face, "I love you." He averred, "And I trust you, okay? I want this. We have to at least try. There's no one but you I could ever do this with…. Please." He breathed, voice shaky but certain in it's words.

Dean finally looked at Sam, right down into the very depths of his open, illuminating eyes, and saw endless tunnels of love and faith – the fear still lingering around the edges, but still, Sam was trusting him. He had to trust too.

Dean nodded one last time and leaned forward over his brother. He grabbed Sam's right hand in his, interlocked their fingers and brought their entwined arms over Sam's head, pressed down into the pillow as Dean braced himself over his brother's body. His breath was ragged and torn as he gripped himself in his free hand and lined up against Sam's slick, twitching hole.

Sam's jaw clenched before he tilted his chin up and pressed his lips to Dean's, parting them easily with his own as his unoccupied hand gripped his brother's jaw and kept him firmly against him.

Dean's tongue swept into Sam's mouth with the first gentle sway of his hips, pushing just the tip of his head into Sam's clenched heat and flooding an ocean of shocking heat through his body.

The reaction for Sam was just as immediate as his brother's teeth clamped down onto Dean's lower lip, his whole body tensing up as he sliced through the first layer of skin and a dribble of blood flooded to the surface.

"_Ah_," Dean cried softly in surprise, jerking back from the quick nip of pain to stare into Sam's closed eyes, his shock turning to sorrow as he noticed his brother's face contort, his breath quicken and his muscles begin twitching under him. "Sammy." He said quietly, seeing the traces of fear lining his furrowed brow and tight lips, knowing he was fighting a flashback and aching because of it.

"It's okay baby, look at me. Sam open your eyes," Dean coaxed brokenly, brushing his hand down Sam's hair and over his cheek, "Hey, it's just me." He whispered, leaning down to kiss his brother again, fighting to keep himself completely still inside, not wanting to frighten him further.

Dean brushed his fingertips over Sam's eyes, "Look at me." He ordered again softly and Sam's eyes finally fluttered, looking around the room in a flurry of mild panic as he resurfaced from his past, "Hey," Dean called, clasping Sam's jaw harder, forcing him to look into his eyes, "You're safe Sammy, you're right here." He breathed unsteadily, "It's me, alright, just me. No one's gonna hurt you."

"Dean." Sam croaked and Dean simply nodded, kissing over his face and squeezing Sam's hand in his own. "'M sorry," He said shaking his head as he realized how quickly he'd fallen back into his memories, his brows curling together over his shimmering eyes.

"Nothin' to be sorry for." Dean sighed out, little zings of pleasure still shocking his strained muscles with every breath that shifted him inside his brother, "You need a break or you wanna keep going?" Dean asked, his body screaming at him not to stop as his head and heart ordered him to stay still, his hand reverently stroking over the sweat-sticky locks matted to his brother's forehead.

"Keep going." Sam breathed, fighting so obviously hard to keep his quickly breaking seems from spilling his ugly, warring emotions all over them. Especially in the middle of _this_, what was meant to be the most invaluable experience. _This_ time was supposed to be right - supposed to be clean-cut and organized and safe. He didn't need his insides breaking apart in the middle of it, his emotional baggage flooding out to taint this.

So he kept himself strong as Dean slid another agonizing inch into him, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of images and phantom sensation that slammed into him like a wall of bricks, keeping any speck of pleasure from ever making it through to him.

Instead he felt the cold, jagged tar of the alley rubbing his cheek raw as rough, careless thrusts rocked him against pavement. He felt the burning stretch of his thighs as someone pressed down on the small of his back, spreading his knees like the slut he was before shoving in dry except for the slick of his own blood. He felt the pit of his stomach shift and cramp as he was slammed into violently, prodded in places so deep he didn't know they existed. He felt the gag, he felt the rope, he felt the fists on his hips, holding him down.

Helpless, petrified, waiting for death. He felt it all.

"Sam." Dean's voice sounded by his ear, "Sammy come on baby, stay with me." He whispered, his lips brushing over his hot skin, "You gotta stay here with me, _focus_, you're safe now." He continued, his hips rocking gently into Sam's, almost half-way in, slowly and predictable movements, trying once more to break Sam from his mind.

"De-ean." Sam cried quietly, bringing his legs up to lock around Dean's back as his free hand draped over his neck, clutching onto his shoulder as he turned his face toward his brother's, tears dribbling silently from his eyes.

"It's okay Sammy, shh baby, everything's okay. There you go," Dean praised, his breath fanning over Sam's lips before he kissed away the rolling droplets on his brother's cheeks. Sam sighed squeezing the last of the wetness from his eyes and bringing his head up to kiss the junction of Dean's neck and shoulder, encouraging him to thrust his hips a little deeper, watching his brother's face twitch into a grimace of pleasure every few seconds. "That's it Sammy, you're okay now."

Sam squeezed the hands that still gripped Dean's fist and shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on his brother's until Dean's cock thrust directly into his prostate and a shocked gasp filled his lungs, his head tossing back into the pillow and thrashing to the side as Dean continued a merciless onslaught to that tender spot inside him.

Sam's breath stuttered out in a guttural moan, his chest deflating as his hand fisted in the pillow bellow his head, Dean continuing his jerky plunges inside him.

"Uhh fuck." Dean moaned into Sam's neck before finally bottoming out in one long, deep push, breathing deeply into the crook of his shoulder before backing up to look over Sam's face. His brother's eyes were clenched shut, his mouth open on a silent gasp and his hands still clutching into Dean's flesh – a display of what he thought looked a lot like pleasure, "Sammy."

Sam breathed through his parted lips a few times before slowly rolling his head to the side to look at his brother, squinting, "Don't stop." He managed to whimper through the trembling in his stomach and shoulders, "Fuck don't ever stop." He moaned rocking his hips, more nameless tears flowing down his temples, "Didn't know, it could _ever_, feel like this." He said, pausing for labored breaths every few words, fighting to speak through the pressure in his throat.

Sam's sensually swaying hips were mind-melting torture and Dean couldn't take it for more than the few seconds it took to lick away Sam's tears before he pulled out to his head and shoved back in, not stopping until his balls were resting against Sam's ass. "Oh God." He moaned, tossing his head back and pushing his upper body off of Sam as he found a new angle, driving in deeper as every thrust met the canting of Sam's hips, forcing him as far as he could possibly go.

A new strangled sound filled the air with every rock of their tangled bodies, the sound of the headboard shoving into the wall kept the steady beat of their flawless rhythm. It was slow and powerful, an insuperable intensity buzzing between them like the heavy vibrations of a cello – thick and tangible, the air shrinking their lungs with every breath as they each tried to pull in enough oxygen, floundering and powerless to their need for each other.

"God Sam I love you." Dean breathed out in a frantic rush as he fell forward again, catching himself with his arms, bent on either side of Sam's head and never stopping his unbearably slow rocking into him.

"Ungh," Sam grunted on a quiet gasp as Dean hit that sweet spot again. It was a moment before he could find his voice again, "Dean, _Jesus_, yeah." He nodded frantically, looking into his brother's darkened eyes, boring back into his, "Me too. Love you. Love you so God damn much."

Dean's thrusts stalled, stuttered and then rapidly quickened as he lifted up again, bringing Sam's hips with him and pounding into him senselessly, throwing his head back and finally closing in on his release. "Oh God, oh God," He whispered, his fists clutching Sam's thighs as he held his brother up against him, still thrusting furiously, "Fuck Sammy, baby, unngh," He sobbed, shoving deep one last time, the sound of Sam's name reverberating against the walls, screaming as his orgasm ripped through him, tearing him apart from the inside out, emptying himself into his brother.

Dean continued rocking through his aftershocks, the little movements pushing right up into Sam's prostate as Dean's hand found Sam's cock through his daze and tugged a few solid times before his brother's whole body curled into an impossibly tight ball and broke to pieces right in before his eyes.

"Jesus." Dean breathed watching Sam's body explode apart, his back arching up off the bed as his arms latched onto the headboard and tugged himself up, his legs tightening like an anaconda around Dean's waist as white hot ropes of come shot over his stomach and chest, Dean's name falling like a breathless, chanted prayer from his lips, over and over for what felt like hours.

Dean collapsed onto him before rolling them onto their sides, still snug inside his brother as they simply breathed, reveling in their glowing highs and coming down from the intensity of a pleasure neither of them new was possible.

They were both asleep in a matter of minutes, not one word passing between them before they were deep in their dreams, Dean's head still cradled in Sam's arms against his chest and his legs still wrapped around Dean's waist.

OoOoOoO

Sam woke the next afternoon absolutely sweltering under the covers, dripping sweat into the soaked sheets and breathing up against soft spikes tickling his lips. He quickly noticed his ass was aching and his leg was absolutely dead.

He slowly pried open his sticky eyes, blinking until he could see and beaming as soon as he heard Dean snuffling under him, still swaddled up in his arms and fit snug inside him – they hadn't moved an inch. Sam sighed through his irrepressible smile as he accounted for his distant aches and let any urge to quell them fade away as he realized where he was and pulled Dean tighter into his arms. His hand raked through Dean's matted locks before he pressing a kiss to them, breathing in the smell of sleep and sex still lingering on his brother.

"God. It's…impossible…how much I love you." Sam whispered through an upsurge of emotion that tightened his throat and dampened his lashes, "'S just not fucking possible."

Dean's head slowly tipped back to look at Sam, startling him with the movement and kissing his chin on the way up, bringing his hand to cup his brother's cheek, "Better not be." He breathed back through a playful smile, catching his falling tears with the pad of his thumb.

"It has to be." Sam whispered back, looking into the jade green of his brother's eyes, bright in the afternoon sun, "No one can love a person so much it actually hurts." He denied, the backs of his knuckles unconsciously rubbing over his chest where the swelling ache was steadily pounding to the thud of his heart.

"I do." Dean avowed, "Always will Sammy."


End file.
